


The King of the Golden Mountain.

by grovicisms, Sapphirianna



Series: happy ends are hard to come by [2]
Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Royalty, Gen, Grief/Mourning, king AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-09-18
Updated: 2016-11-14
Packaged: 2018-02-17 20:19:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 12
Words: 27,506
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2321996
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grovicisms/pseuds/grovicisms, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sapphirianna/pseuds/Sapphirianna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As steward of a kingdom on the verge of self-destruction, his work was never done. It was then that Jack found himself absently wishing for the strong comfort of a certain king, but the great Geoffrey Ramsey was dead and gone. The blacksmith felt the pang of sadness and remorse once more in his chest. His ears ached for the breathless laughter of his long time friend, but reality would not give it to him. So he settled for the quiet scratching of quill upon parchment.</p><p>sequel to Sleeping Beauty.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Home to your parents you cannot return

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to the long awaited sequel to our lovely little fic, Sleeping Beauty.
> 
> If you aren't familiar with the story, you should probably go and read that because spoilers are a thing, even in this first chapter. :33
> 
> Otherwise, have fun!
> 
> There won't be a relatively quick updating schedule as we've both been fairly busy and need time for the rough drafts and editing of each chapter.  
> But we are VERY excited to release this!
> 
> Anyways, enough of me rambling. Onto the story!

**Part I**

**“No one ever told me that grief felt so like fear.”**

_C.S. Lewis_

  
  


 

When Jack awoke, he was met by the sweet calling of a violin. Surprise registered in his foggy mind as his eyes fluttered open. It was much too dark to be dawn quite yet, but the singing of the stringed instrument drifted in through the summer breeze passing through his window. He stayed entangled in his bedsheets, training his ears to the melancholic notes. He could feel the weight of a certain sadness on his heart as he listened to the stranger’s soul bared forth in sorrow. In the dim moonlight, Jack vaguely wondered what had prompted the distant melody at such a late hour. As the music slid into a crescendo, he found himself on his feet, wrapped in a curious haze.

 

The silence of the castle only enhanced the sad echoes of the violin. The swirling notes tugged at Jack’s heartstrings, and memories pricked at the back of his eyes, forcing dew to gather on his eyelids. The guards paid him little mind as he quietly tread by on bare feet. He was on a mission. The sounds of the violin were what guided him to her.

 

She was a pale creature, hardly had seen the sun by the looks of her. She was lithe, her slender fingers expertly grasping the bow. Her moonlit form was swirled with colors and designs that looked traditional in a sense. Her straight, blonde hair glittered nearly silver in the starlight. Jack found himself staring at her, enchanted. In the back of his brain, some part of him recognized her as an otherworldly creature, too perfect to be human and yet too ethereal to be a demon of the Nether. Suddenly, it clicked. She was a muse, elvish in nature and angelic. A rare sighting.

 

Jack settled his gaze on her, and hers to his, locking him into place with glittering eyes of sorrowful blue. The realization dawned on him that she was grieving as she stood, the freshly laid dirt seeping between her toes. The dark body of the violin fit snugly under her chin as she rent the night chill with the melancholic crying of the bow on the strings. Jack closed his eyes as the last low note reverberated throughout the cemetery air, fading into the dull noise of the summertime night. When he opened them again, he found himself alone with the flowers already beginning to wilt in the humid air and the tombstone glistening with dewdrops.

 

The tears threatened to return, but he blinked them away. Deep under his feet laid the solid casing of an obsidian casket buried under six feet of earth, the Ramsey green banner shielding the glossy stone from the dirt laid there the day before. Jack felt the sharp thorn of grief render his heart asunder once more. He couldn’t help but feel the regret like lead return to his feet. Desperately somewhere in his mind, Jack cried to whatever deity there might be to rewind time so that he might have done something else to stop this.

 

Memories cascaded in his mind of the ceremony. It had been more than simply grim. Jack had donned the ceremonial black clothing and spoken like he had for the past three funerals. He had been grateful that no one had brought it up to him that these were his friends he was laying into the ground, but that reassurance did nothing to help him forget the faces of those death had obscured. Jack had felt the warmth of hot tears streaming from his eyes as he had laid the Ramsey banner over this last casket. He had almost not been able to proceed with the final words of his address, the sorrow had become too great to say in finality “may he rest in peace at last”. He recalled the harsh sting of remorse, and it stayed with him still.

 

The reminder that it was too late came in the receding echoes of the muse’s song. With a heavy sigh, Jack turned back to the torchlight flickering on the dull silver glow that was the castle. He hesitated, turning briefly to register the four tombstones. His heart ached. What a mess this whole thing had become, and now he felt more alone than he had ever been in his life. He steeled himself to return to what his life had become. He couldn’t stay here with the already vanished muse and mourn the already dead. He was needed back where his home was. He had things to do. The blacksmith gathered his wits about him and trudged back the way he had come. He was astounded by the sudden silence the muse had left in her wake. Neither owl nor bug made a single chirrup as he reentered the building, gently tugging the oaken door behind him, leaving the royal cemetery to bask in the silver starlight.

 

The trek back to his room was filled with confused thought patterns drawn in his head that made little sense. As he tread past the silent guards, he found the profound silence to be everywhere but inside his own head. Sleep would be as elusive as his peace of mind, he mused in bitterness. But in his heart, he knew he must press on despite the hardships that had only just recently ravaged the kingdom, much less his heart. Within a year, the great king once thought to be immortal caved under the weight of a sickness replacing his lifeblood with poison. Within months, the bravest and brightest of the king’s knights fell to the darkness of his own heart. Within weeks, arguably the most steady of the knights had tumbled down a road too twisted and dark to be the road of the sane. Within days, the righteous knight become king who had stepped forward to help guide the kingdom back to its glory under the First was choked by his own blood through the single swipe of a shattered mind in madness’s glory. Within hours, the jester whose smile had lit the kingdom with brilliant joy had crumbled under his own despair. Jack couldn’t help but feel alone in the madness that had crashed into his life.

 

He blinked, barely registering his own surprise that he was already back to the door at the end of the hall. Beyond the solid oak in front of him was his bedroom, and one more door beyond that, concealed by a heavy bookcase, held the most painful memories of the past year. He didn’t want to think of those nights spent in silence with the five most influential people of his life. He didn’t want to recall the flickering candlelight glinting off the tears streaking down three knights’ otherwise stoic faces. He didn’t wish to remember the fool’s sickening screaming. He didn’t want to reminisce the final breath of his friend and king. He didn’t want to remember, but the memories forced their way into his mind, playing a disheartening cinematic broken record.

 

He pushed the door open, forcing himself to function after what seemed like an eternity. The blankets on the bed were in a bundle of pure mess, something Jack rarely allowed to happen, but he refused to lie down just yet. Dawn was assuredly hours away still, but he knew that the nightmares would plague him as soon as he rested his eyes. And so he pulled the chair out from under his desk and sat down to work.

 

As steward of a kingdom on the verge of self-destruction, his work was never done. Piles upon piles of parchment covered his desk, his sketches of magnificent weaponry yet to be forged swiped away to the floor. His smithy days were over, at least until the kingdom was back into order. He huffed a sigh, running calloused fingers through ginger hair. He plucked the quill from the inkwell and set to work. Documents of varying importance were spread throughout the room. It was then that Jack found himself absently wishing for the strong comfort of a certain king, but the great Geoffrey Ramsey was dead and gone. The blacksmith felt the pang of sadness and remorse once more in his chest. His ears ached for the breathless laughter of his long time friend, but reality would not give it to him. So he settled for the quiet scratching of quill upon parchment.

 

An hour slunk by, and the pile was no less higher than it had been when Jack had first tackled it. He kept the frustration at bay, however, reminding himself of the importance of these boring tasks. He was caught in the convoluted terminology of a nobleman's plea for more land for his estate when Jack suddenly felt the discomforting prickle of being watched on the back of his neck. He couldn't place when he had heard the door to the room creak open, but he deemed that information unworthy of his attention. He shrugged it off, firmly placing his focus on the task in front of his eyes. But it didn't take long for the unsettling feeling to force his attention elsewhere.

 

"Are you just going to sit there watching me? Or are you actually going to sleep in my bed?" The slightly annoyed, if a tad amused, man rumbled, turning his hazel gaze to find a figure wrapped in a bundle of his bed sheets, hooded eyes staring holes into him. Jack turned away from his own handwriting to face the intruder.

 

"Can't sleep," came the rough reply.

 

"Figured as much." Jack felt the edges of his lips twinge upward in an attempted warm smile. "Go on, make yourself comfortable. I probably won't be going back to sleep anytime soon, myself."

 

The ball of fabric grunted in return, halfheartedly flopping into what Jack could only assume was a prone position.

 

"Please just go to sleep. You need your rest," Jack urged. He frowned at the younger man's haggard appearance. He'd known the king hadn't been sleeping well, and the burial the day before must have triggered the return of insomnia. The dark purple creases under the man's eyes made him flinch when celadon irises found his own hazel ones.

 

"Can't sleep."

 

"Still. You need your rest." Silence filled the room for a moment as the realization suddenly clicked in Jack's head. He felt silly for not having thought of it before. "Nightmares?"

 

The shuffling of fabric was his only reply. He took it as an affirmation of his conclusion, but reserved the urge to push the small bundle any further. If Gavin wanted to talk about it, he would, but Jack had an inkling that maybe Gavin would never pull together the last strings of his courage to do so. It had been several days since the incident, and Gavin seemed even more defeated than he had been the night Jack had sought him out to relay the news of the younger man's father figure's passing. Jack couldn't help but notice the way Gavin's arms seemed to wrap around himself as he stood, closed off and unwilling to open for anyone, even the rough blacksmith who had known him for a decade. Worry pressed on Jack's mind, but if Gavin were to come back to himself, he mused, it certainly wouldn't be through Jack throwing himself into the Geoff-sized hole in the lad's heart.

 

He returned to the document, listening for any indication that Gavin might have fallen asleep. Aside from the scratch of the quill upon parchment, silence ruled the air. Again, the worry bled into his thoughts. What if Gavin turned into another Ryan with all the death and decay surrounding him?

 

Ryan had driven himself insane with the treacherous acts against his closest friends, even so far as to blame himself for Ray’s sudden and unexpected passing, though that part of his freakishly detailed plot to take Geoff out of the picture was not anticipated or planned. Jack shuddered, recalling the heated argument between himself and the Mad King that had ended with the blacksmith being banned from the throne room permanently. What unsettled him the most was the joyous gleam in Ryan’s ice cold eyes as he spilled his dastardly plot to Jack. His intentions had been pure at the start, Jack decided to give him that, but still his own philosophies had twisted against his pure soul and plunged him further into a darkness that Jack himself had been unaware of until that day. Ryan had blood on his hands from the first night, starting with Geoff’s poisoning.

 

What about Gavin? Jack paused in his writing, clenching his calloused fingers around the quill, a sudden surge of a cold chill prickling at the base of his spine. Gavin had blood on his hands just as Ryan had. Michael, Gavin’s best friend—his boy—was dead just as Ray, Ryan’s best friend, was. Though while Ray had taken it upon himself to leave them all behind by rite of suicide, Michael had been murdered by Ryan’s own hand in a bout of madness. Gavin—he had snapped in his own way and took it upon himself to rid the world of the Mad King and his knight. What did that mean to Gavin’s sanity? How could Jack care for a man too deep down the same path as the one who had started this whole mess? What would that mean for Geoff’s final request? Should he even be worried for the king’s sanity? Was he just paranoid after Ryan’s stunt? Of course Gavin had murdered Ryan, but was it out of protectiveness for the kingdom or his own emotional need to rid himself of the perpetrator of all this madness? Jack heaved a sigh. This was all too confusing to be mulling over so late at night.

 

“Jack?” The young man in question called for him weakly. “Are you okay?”

 

No, Jack wanted to say, he was not okay. He was confused and shaken and exhausted. But instead of speaking his mind, he turned to the younger man with a comforting grin and nodded.

 

“Just tired, Gav. Go to sleep. You’ve got a long day tomorrow,” he urged. “Don’t mind this silly old Hand.”

 

Gavin didn’t look convinced in the slightest, but the extreme tiredness seemed to catch up with him. Jack looked on in concern as he wrapped himself in a swath of Ramsey green. In that instant, he was reminded of the nights when Gavin would sneak into the throne room as Geoffrey and himself were working a particularly late night, wrapped in bundles of sheets and an expression of confused terror on his face. Geoff often had beckoned him over, a warm, if not concerned, smile inviting the small statured teenager into his arms. Gavin would stay there until the flickering torchlight pulled his curious eyes shut in slumber.

 

Despite the boy being just old enough to be considered close to adulthood, his mentality was one of a ten year old, especially on those nights. Jack watched the twenty-five year old man as sleep overtook him. He was reminded of those distant nighttime hours spent watching Geoff and this small boy curled up together on the throne—a spitting image of the king and his prince. No one would be able to tell that those two had no blood relation at all. A warm smile broke out on Jack’s face at the memory.

 

Maybe he had been too paranoid. Gavin was okay considering the circumstances that had lead to his kingship. He was going to be okay, and Jack was prepared to make that a certainty.

  
He had to. The kingdom and Geoff’s wishes balanced on that fact.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wonder who that lady was...
> 
>  
> 
> This chapter's songs are  
> [Song from a Secret Garden](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tS-DmhSXL7A) &  
> [Where Shadows Cannot Reach](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Isv701qs6to)
> 
> Give those a click!
> 
> We've decided to keep up with our little tradition of giving you guys some sweet music to listen to while reading; although, we've switched composers on you, because this guy is just as epic as the last one. (Though Song From a Secret Garden is not one of his works. I just happened to be listening to that piece when writing this chapter and thought it fit the muse's song. :33)
> 
> No character songs yet, though, but keep your eyes peeled for them!
> 
> See you in the next chapter!


	2. Those who had lost it all

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys.  
> Slightly early update for you since I (Sapph) am bored and waiting for my next class.
> 
> From here on out, though, the schedule may slow down to once every other week. Grifisms and I have had massive trouble finding time to write, so please bear with us.
> 
> Also, another reminder that this is the sequel to Sleeping Beauty.  
> So if you're new to the series, go read that first. :33
> 
> Anyways, onward to glory! or pain. Whichever comes first.

Ray couldn't help the prickle at the back of his neck as his hair stood on end. Tension crackled through the air, even more so than he’d thought possible. It was the Nether the four were standing in, after all. The knight found himself grasping at the hilt of his beloved rapier as he eyed the two standing ahead of him. To his right stood the man he had sworn loyalty to as knight of the castle, paler than a ghost and his hands shaking, though it was impossible to tell if they were shaking from anger, fear, or just from his weakness, and to his left stood perhaps one of his best friends, the front of his tunic stained a vibrant maroon too dark to be a trick of the red haze surrounding them all, reminding the knight why they were even arguing to begin with.

 

“I think he’s going mad.” Ryan held his gaze steady on the first king despite the nervous sweat gleaming on the man’s brow. Ray watched in silence as Geoff turned his back on the man, his face unreadable. Michael, the palace warrior, was frozen in place, too shocked to even make a smart remark on the subject matter at hand. Ray noted his tense stance, and clenched his jaw. Silently, he begged the warrior to stay back. There would be no benefit in lunging at the man previously known as the Mad King.

 

Ryan was human just like the rest of them, Ray thought to himself. Ryan had just lost himself in life. He seemed relatively together, despite looking like a gentle wind would blow him over. The great, strong man Ray had known as the Relentless looked almost as pale as Geoff. Ray felt a clinch in his chest, though, when he glanced over to Michael to reaffirm that the curly haired man was still where he had been standing a few seconds ago and saw the brilliant red slash across his throat. He could understand his apprehension around Ryan, but this took the cake. The warrior was practically bristling, slowly melting out of his shock. Ray watched as Michael’s expression switched between surprise, absolute fury, and utter depression.

 

“Impossible,” Geoff muttered, breath coming out as a hiss. “But— it’s Gavin you’re talking about.”

 

“I know,” Ryan’s voice was small, like that of a fragile child’s, ready to crack. “I think that makes it even more likely.”

 

Ray felt a sting where the phantom blade laid deep in the skin of his chest. Gavin. His Vav. The silly, brilliant jester who was his partner in crime throughout the days he served at that castle. The self-inflicted wound throbbed painfully. He had left his Vav behind. He had left them all behind in his selfish clawing for escape. The neutral expression he had been trying so desperately to maintain twisted into a pained frown. Ray couldn’t help but feel the overwhelming rush of guilt. It was because of him that this had gone so wrong. If only he hadn’t died—

 

“Gavin,” Geoff’s voice cut through his ever growing list of things to blame himself for. Ray’s gaze slipped up from his feet to find his king pacing back and forth, a worriedly apprehensive Ryan following his every movement with his blue eyes. “My God, dear Gavin.”

 

The older man’s voice nearly broke with tears, his rage melted into an incomprehensible grief. Ray looked on, the phantom blade in his chest digging deeper when Geoff’s body found the sudden onrush of emotions too much to bear and collapsed to the ground. The three knights each felt a sharp pang at each muffled word uttered by the once great king.

 

Michael averted his gaze, finding it far too disrespectful and painful to watch the mighty king in his grieving. Ryan remained in anxious silence, guilt once again clenching at his heart, threatening to take him once more into the dark chasm of pain in memories. Ray screwed his eyes shut and grasped at his rapier. Geoff composed himself after a lengthy minute, struggling to find the strength within to clamber to his feet. He breathed a shaky breath, surveying his knights with saddened eyes. Running a quivering hand through his dark hair, he nodded.

 

"I'm okay." He waved away Michael's awkward attempts to reach out to steady him. "I'll be okay. We need to get the fuck out of here."

 

"Agreed," Ray piped in quietly. "Gavin needs us."

 

"He—he has Jack." Geoff brushed himself off, momentarily stuttering over his words as he did so. "Jack prom—nevermind."

 

Michael eyed his king warily, searching for any moment where Geoff could tumble and readying himself to catch the fragile man. Geoff held out his hand as if to ward off the knight’s approach—as if to say _“I’m alright”_.

 

The four remained in their little circle, each deep in his thoughts. Ryan’s eyebrows clinched together as he bit his lower lip, a common Ryan move as he concentrated. Ray glanced about, cringing at the screeching of an unsightly creature off in the distance, his fingers curling instinctively around the hilt of his rapier. Michael seemed unconvinced of Geoff’s stability and watched his every move, unwilling to let the king’s stubbornness be his downfall once more.

 

It was the strangling call of a malformed creature that caused the group to jump. Ray tensed immediately, his rapier sliding an inch out of the sheath.

 

"We need to get moving," Michael said as he rearranged his armor. "Who knows what's in this place."

 

"Right. I'd rather not die again. That wouldn't be a pleasant experience." Ryan cleared his throat nervously.

 

"Alright." Geoff drew up his chest. "Let's move, boys."

 

* * *

 

“Do we even know what we’re looking for?” Michael’s groan prompted Geoff’s left eye to twitch. “We've been walking for hours, Geoff.”

 

“If you ever had a proper childhood, you would've known we are on the most difficult scavenger hunt of our afterlives.” Geoff paused, his thin frame bowing with exhaustion, and Ryan stopped in his tracks, turning to his king with concern creasing his brow. Geoff’s breathing was worryingly shallow. Ryan reached to place a worn hand on the trembling man’s back, but a hesitation gripped him, and he pulled away.

 

“Sorry that I spent my life training to protect your sorry ass.” Michael threw his hands into the red fog settling above the troupe’s heads and added in exasperation, “We’re following a fairy tale. Great.”

 

“A fairy tale we are now standing in.”

 

Ray’s quiet voice pierced through Michael’s heart. The warrior found himself staring at his friend who was staring ahead, a great sorrow encroaching on his mind. He desperately wished to be mad at Ray, but he couldn't find it in himself to lash out, as if Ray were made of glass.

 

“Geoff?” Ryan ventured, his own hand trembling a few inches from Geoff’s back. “Can you—?”

 

“I’m fine, Ryan.” Geoff straightened. “Let’s just keep moving. I’d rather not get the privilege to bear witness to one of those—those things we keep hearing.”

 

Ray agreed with a curt nod of the head. As if on cue, the hideous screeching of a distant beast echoed throughout the caverns. The four flinched on instinct alone and began their journey anew. They walked in silence for a distance until they began to feel the ache in their feet.

 

“If we really do find this,” Michael grunted as he scrambled for a word to use, “—this _thing_ we’re looking for, what the fuck are we going to do with it?”

 

“It’s a portal to the land of mortals, numbskull. We walk through it.” Geoff snorted in amusement.

 

“Portal?”

 

“Yeah, big, black, scary looking doorway that makes weird sounds.”

 

“You’ve gotta be kidding me.”

 

“Nope. If the Nether is real, the portals have to be real.”

 

“And you’re sure we’ll get back home that way?”

 

“Our lives depend on it.”

 

“So we have to go through it.”

 

“Unless you want to spend the afterlife moping around this dingy place with the local wildlife?”

 

“On a side note, we need to find a place to settle down for the night. We’re all exhausted—” Ryan interrupted.

 

“—don’t stop on my account, you dummy.” Geoff snorted in frustration as he began to lag behind, once more causing the rest to pause for him to catch up.

 

“No,” Ray spoke quietly. “Ryan’s right. We all need sleep.” Geoff finally sat in acquiescence. A minute smile graced Ray’s lips for a second at the king’s offhand huff of disappointment.

 

“I’ll take the first watch.” Michael volunteered with a stretch. He winced as his spine popped.

 

“No, you need your rest as much as the rest of us.” Ray gently pushed him aside. “I’ll wake you when I deem the time as right.”

 

“Well, if you insist, Ray.” Michael eyed him in suspicion before flopping to the rocky ground, reluctant to relent, as if he believed himself that Ray was incapable of holding his own. Ray withdrew to the side and assumed a firm stance with his back to the crew.

 

Ryan peered towards his best friend as Ray planted his feet firmly on the ground and gripped the rapier in his firm grasp. The older man pushed himself to his aching feet in the approaching silence. He watched as Ray’s stoic shoulders tensed for a brief moment at a distant cry. He observed the flowing red cloak gently swinging in the heat of the Nether.

 

An all too human scream echoed distantly in the silence, and Ray immediately stiffened. Ryan approached him with caution.

 

“Ray?” The knight in question flinched, dark eyes peering over his shoulder to find the owner of the voice. “Something’s on your mind.”

 

“It’s nothing, Ryan. Go to sleep.” Ray easily shrugged him off, but something about the way he stiffly turned back to staring into the red haze was off-putting to Ryan.

 

“You sure? ‘Cause it seems to me that something’s wrong.” The older man took a place beside his friend, observing him with concern. “Talk to me, Ray.”

 

The stubborn silence persisted for several long moments, both men watching the distance with a wary eye. A sudden snort from behind caused both to jump.

 

“What was that?” Ryan exclaimed, a shiver racing up his spine, only to vanish at Ray’s own snort of laughter.

 

“Scared?” Ray teased quietly. He was grinning that cheeky little grin that hadn’t graced his face in a long time. Ryan regarded him with an amused smirk. “Sorry, Ryan. I didn’t know Geoff’s snoring counted as a demonic creature of the Nether.”

 

“Ha. Ha. Very funny, Ray.” Ryan crossed his arms and quirked an eyebrow at his friend. The knights shared a quiet laugh that faded back into silence.

 

“Why?”

 

“Why what?” Ryan blinked the sleepiness from his eyes. “What’s up?”

 

Ray struggled with his words for a few moments, his face contorting into various confused expressions. “Why is no one mad at me?”

 

Ryan hesitated, righteously attempting to cherry pick his words through his confusion. “Why would anyone be mad at you?”

 

“Nevermind then,” Ray said. The worry in Ryan’s mind spiked at his defeated voice.

 

“Wait, no, Ray talk to me. Everyone else is asleep. You can say anything. Please, you know I’m here for you.” Ryan laid a hand on the knight’s shoulder. Ray refused to speak. The revelation came to Ryan slowly as he observed his friend’s pensive face.

 

A sharp sting resonated from the phantom blade embedded in Ryan’s chest, and the desperate need to scratch it away fell short of the heavy guilt suddenly weighing down his heart. All he could manage was a small “oh”, as if his entire vocabulary had been shot out of him.

 

“Just— nevermind. Go to sleep, Ryan. We've got a long ways to go in the morning.” Ray turned away from him once again, resuming his stiff posture from before. There would be no more heart-to-heart that night.

  
Dejected and still at a loss as to what to say, Ryan nodded and turned back to the prone forms of Michael and Geoff. Who knew how long the nights lasted in the godforsaken place, if there was any way to distinguish time there. Perhaps they were trapped in perpetual nightfall. With these thoughts plaguing his mind, Ryan pulled his cloak about himself and settled himself on the uneven rocks and gave in to a hopefully dreamless sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> owch. It was the pain that came first.  
> Be prepared for more to come, though. :33
> 
> This chapter's songs are:  
> [In Light and Darkness](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FiH06V4dMSk) &  
> [Interludium](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fDHTWzADF_Y)
> 
> Go give those a click and cry with us! :DD
> 
> See you in the next chapter!


	3. Dreaming men are haunted men

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, a tad bit of a later update for you this time around. Sorry about that, I (Sapph) have been pretty busy this last week with coursework. =w="
> 
> Anyways, I'm sad to announce that we might not be able to update next week. We're pretty behind on writing. We definitely are NOT giving up on the story! Don't worry! We're just busy, busy people.
> 
> Anyways, on to the next chapter of our little tale.

The morning came slowly in warm streaks of gold peeking over the horizon. From within the walls of his room, Jack shifted with a groan. He woke to the clatter of books tipping over the edge of his desk. Blinking the sleep from his eyes, he stretched, feeling the comforting pop of his spine falling back into place. His back ached from being hunched over the entire night long. He took a quick survey of his surroundings. The lanterns had run low overnight and burnt out, casting the room in near complete darkness. Flickering torchlight from the hall beyond the door filtered in through cracks.

With a final yawn, Jack turned to where he should have been sleeping, his bed. It was empty. Gavin must have left a while ago. The younger man had left the pile of blankets strewn haphazardly on the mattress. Jack blinked slowly. Somehow, surprise was not the emotion that cropped up in his mind. He knew that finding Gavin would only result in lost time. The king would show himself as he pleased. There was no winning the eternal game of hide-and-seek with the young man.

Jack rose from his chair. The day had already begun, and there was work to be done. He quickly changed into his everyday clothing: a tan tunic, brown pants, and a tribute to the late Ramsey, a deep emerald cloak bundled around his neck that flowed behind him as he briskly walked past an empty king’s quarters and two old guest rooms that were probably gathering dust. The midmorning sun illuminated the age old stone walls, streaming through glass to play with the dust motes. Jack paid this no mind as he passed a change of guards. He had no time to admire nature's simplicity. He pushed the great oak doors open, revealing an empty throne room. He was suspecting that. The throne remained untouched. Gavin must not have wandered through in his early morning stroll.

Jack made a beeline for his desk, eager to somehow reduce the amount of paperwork still cluttering his desk. He ensconced himself in his humble little chair and set to work, swiping the first of many parchment pages from a pile, scanning it over. He plucked the quill from its inkwell and began writing. Sunlight glided across the sky, chasing the shadows along the floor. The change of the guard passed the ginger haired man by twice before he paused in his work.

When he raised his head, he found his gaze falling on that of the young king. Gavin watched him with an unreadable expression hardening his features, almost completely the opposite of the persona he had taken the night before. He looked leagues older than twenty-five, dressed in clothing too stiff to be that of a former jester’s. Brilliant greens similar to the celadon of his irises covered his torso like intricate patchwork, only slightly off of the Ramsey greens. His neck seemed bare without the old silken scarf wrapped about him, in its place was the high collar of the man’s tunic. A slim crown sat in his scruffy hair. Gavin sat stiffly in the throne, his posture rigid and imposing, like that of a proper king of a large nation. Any other time, Jack might have felt the overwhelming pride a parent might hold for a child if not for those cold eyes void of light observing his every move. Instead, a wave of sorrow, followed by helplessness, flooded him to his core.

“Your Majesty.” He greeted his king with a dip of his head. “Good morning.”

“Afternoon.” Even Gavin’s response was as stiff as he sat.

“Oh, really? I haven't paid attention to the time, I guess.” Jack felt a soft chuckle escape him, maybe in hopes he could lighten the mood.

“That’s alright. You may resume your work.” Jack suppressed a flinch at the painfully formal manner in which Gavin spoke. It was so unlike him, it grated on Jack’s nerves. And so he returned to the paper at hand, opting to turn his attention away from the unsettling gaze.

He worried. There was no way not to. The Gavin he once knew was no longer there. Instead, a stone statue stood in his place, devoid of emotion. Ever since Jack had found him among the bodies of Ryan and Kerry, a sword poised to gut himself, he couldn't forget those wild eyes overflowing with tears and desperation. Gavin had been lost in his own mind, covered in the blood of his friends. It was the complete and utter silence that frightened Jack the most. He had no knowledge, no insight, to what was happening in Gavin’s head. He didn't know what nightmares gripped his friend at night. He didn't know what dreams breathed in the young king’s mind, what voices he heard, what he saw with those graying eyes. He didn't know the routes the young king’s feet took him at night. Jack didn't know, and there was no way to know. The Gavin Jack had once known was broken, in his place was someone Jack didn't know. It worried him more than he’d care to admit.

Jack sneaked a glance back to Gavin. Gavin sat still, a marble statue on a throne that had once belonged to his friend and father, staring into oblivion. There was no indication that Gavin was thinking of anything in particular. Jack once prided himself on the ability to read situations and people like neatly written books, but here, it was near impossible. The cover was practically the same, but Gavin’s words were muddled and smudged, unreadable. Something was haunting Jack’s friend, but he didn’t know what, and he never would unless Gavin opened up to him, which was doubtful at this point. Gavin was nowhere to be found more often than not.

Jack returned to the clear words in front of him. Gavin needed time, that was all. Grieving took time, he knew that. And when Gavin was ready to talk, Jack would be there for him, to guide and encourage him, just as he had promised Geoff. That was the thought he continuously retreated to whenever the worry persisted, the thought that yes, someday Gavin would crack that shell of his from the inside and reach for the older man. Jack only needed to remain patient for that day, and silently guide him from the sidelines until then. It would be okay. The kingdom would be rebuilt. The festivals would take place of the mourning. And the king would finally become who Geoff had foreseen him to be: a great one. They only needed time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A short one, I know. Sorry! It just happened that way.  
> The following chapters will focus on the actual action of the story. As much as we love Gav and Jack, Part I is not their time to shine. :33  
> MEANING you guys get to hang with the rest of the crew soon!
> 
> Chapter song:  
> [Ashes](http://youtu.be/cLQW_FZsXb0)
> 
> Only one song this chapter since it's so short. :33
> 
> See you in the next chapter!


	4. From my rotting body, flowers shall grow and I am in them and that is eternity.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for the late update! We've both been very busy individuals as school kicked up again. We had to flipflop a chapter in order to update today, but hey, anything for you guys. :33 Besides, it doesn't do much to the plot.  
> It's another short chapter, sorry, but it's at least a chapter.
> 
> The title of this chapter was taken from a poem by Edvard Munch. :33

_Jack hadn't expected to see a lake of blood the moment he opened the throne room doors. What he had been expecting was a death threat and a personal escort away from the very room he had been banished from. Shock was the least of the emotions that crashed through him at the sight of two very familiar forms crumpled to the floor. A knight lay just off to the side of the throne staring blankly towards the ceiling, bathing in a pool of his own blood that dripped from a gaping slash in the man's throat. Jack felt an overwhelming flood of nausea at the sight. Fear ran rampant through his veins._

_The former king was on his knees, slumped forward in defeat and cradling a painfully familiar blade embedded in his stomach. The slightly dented circlet of gold had slipped from his head to the floor into a puddle of sticky red. Ryan's body was so peacefully still it was unsettling. Jack half expected him to shift, groan, something that made him alive. However, death had long since carried him into sweet oblivion and froze his body in eternal humility._

_There was no doubt in Jack's mind of whose sword was the one blooming from Ryan's abdomen. The thought brought mixed feelings to his heart. A sort of relief trickled through his blood along with the abject horror threatening to cease his actions altogether, but he could not let that happen. Before him laid a child so lost and broken. He could not bring himself to speak. The scene was too grotesque to process and provide commentary for. All he could do was gently pry the sword from Gavin's trembling fingers and place it to the side. It proved to be more difficult than anticipated, for Gavin's fingers were like stone wrapped around the handle of the longsword._

_The silence perturbed Jack the most. Though Gavin's face was streaked with tears and sweat, he made no sound. A neutral expression donned his features where hysteria had once reigned. A solid ten minutes passed before Jack heard the first words fall from the jester's lips, soft and sure._

_"Let me fade."_

_"You can't. I won't allow it." Jack was quick to respond, gently forcing Gavin to relinquish his hold on the sword. "I just won't let you."_

_"Let me fade." The words were firm and resolute, opposite of what Jack could see in Gavin's panic stricken eyes._

_"No," Jack said simply, placing the diamond blade that had once belonged to Ryan aside. He found himself eye to eye with the determination of a broken man. Gavin did not fight back physically, but his words were their own swords in Jack’s heart._

_"Let me go."_

_"I will not." Jack kept his expression neutral with great struggle. Whispered words sounded harsh and grating in the unsettling quiet. “I will not.”_

_A large, calloused hand descended on the trembling, blood stained fingers. Jack clasped them with a gentle firmness. He felt Gavin relax into his touch, exhaustion racing through the younger man’s veins. Gavin’s dark eyes slid shut, and suddenly his weight was on Jack’s shoulder. A swell of care like that of a father’s soothed Jack’s wounded heart. Perhaps Geoff had left behind something more than loneliness and despair._

 

With a groan, Jack opened his eyes. The afterimages burned behind his eyelids a deep crimson. A dream. No. A memory. The man pulled himself upright. He was surprised at the lack of sunlight pouring through the stained glass windows. Instead, a cold and tainted silver bled across the floor.

 

How long had he been asleep? When had he fallen asleep? Why had no one awakened him? Jack felt the surge of frustration ebb and flow through his mind briefly. It didn’t matter so much at that moment. He was alone in the throne room with the slightly smoking tips of the torches lining the walls.

 

Jack pushed himself up from the desk, careful not to scatter the pages. A peculiar parchment caught his eye. He picked it up and scanned over it. It was a document Jack hadn’t seen before: a report. Had Gavin warranted a scouting mission? Gavin’s handwriting was usually something akin to chickenscratch, but something was odd about this particular document. The page was cleanly pressed and of the highest quality paper, the royal seal pristinely and carefully placed in the proper place. The lettering was carefully and cleanly drawn. Gavin could not have possibly written this, but the signature at the bottom clearly dignified the document. Jack flipped the paper over, as if the unmarked backside would reveal a higher truth. Everything had been done in proper ceremony, like a true king would. Jack hadn’t seen such high level of effort since Geoff had taken him as the king’s Right Hand.

 

He was tempted to feel proud that Gavin had actually paid attention when Geoffrey had been teaching him the proper ways as king, but a sinking feeling in his gut told him that too much care had been placed in such a simple order. Scouts to the northern border? Unless there had been a skirmish at the northern border, there was no need for such an ordinance. Was the king that paranoid? Jack didn’t know. He absolved to speak with Gavin about the manner at once, but it was obvious that the order had already been put into place. A scribble of irritation marred Jack’s mind at the thought. A king’s Right Hand was to be used, not thrown aside for selfish desires.

 

But perhaps Jack was overthinking it. Scouts did not declare an unwarranted war. It took more than that. Perhaps there was another matter that had slipped his attention, and Gavin had taken it upon himself to solve the problem. Perhaps. The word filled Jack’s head as he laid the page on his desk once more and turned to return to his own room. In the morning, he promised himself to speak to Gavin about the matter. Perhaps he had overlooked something in the document. He had glanced over it quickly.

  
Perhaps, perhaps, perhaps.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh boy, something's up with Gavin maybe? Who knows?  
> Anyways, hopefully we'll be able to get back to writing asap and back to a regular schedule, but please don't get upset if we go another couple months without a peep from us.  
> I (Sapph) am a college student with lots of responsibilities and Kristi (grifisms) is a senior in high school with a lot of responsibilities as well. Give us time!
> 
> Thanks guys! And have a very happy Thanksgiving! :D
> 
> Chapter songs:  
> [Let Me Fade](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bfumLOZeXgY) &  
> [Black Rose](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=z5absmIJN24)


	5. In the absence of light, only darkness is left

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello friends! It is I, grifisms, here to give you the next chapter of this lovely fic. I apologize for not uploading this chapter sooner, but school is time consuming.
> 
> Here, we actually have some more plot development! And, more team dynamics between our condemned heroes as they explore the treacherous unknown of The Nether...

The shriek of an adjacent creature pulled the company from their sleep. None of them would be willing to admit, however, that they were plagued by a fitful rest already. Ryan, who had taken up the last watch of the evening, sat leaning against the jagged face of a mountain. Shadows lingered under his eyes telling how desperate he was not to slip into blissful unconsciousness. Michael and Ray, upon hearing the shrill wail of the beast, were on their feet and poised for defense. Geoff stood between the two, too weak to fight but not willing to sit and remain idle. Only his weary gaze fell upon the knight.

 

He had yet to rise.

 

"Ryan." Geoff's firm voice could hardly be heard through the monster's distress. "We need to leave."

 

Roused from his impromptu nap, Ryan jolted awake with a muffled shout. His blurry gaze focused on Geoff, whose commands were drowned out by the chaos about to consume them. Ryan could see the desperation in his eyes and finally stood, longsword in hand.

 

Only then did he see the creature so fixated on them.

 

He noticed the tentacles first. He counted nine, swaying limbs, giving him the impression it could be distantly related to certain sea dwellers. Its eyes, black with menacing red irises, bore through them all. It appeared to be crying, Ryan noted. Vaguely, he wondered if they had somehow disturbed it with their presence. It was less than thirty yards from where they stood and slowly drifting closer. Ryan took his position beside Ray, Michael at the head and Geoff at the center of them. The creature wailed again before launching some flaming projectile from its mouth.

 

"Scatter!"

 

Ryan immediately dove to his left, grabbing Geoff's arm and pulling him away from the blast. The impact sent them tumbling. Ryan was leaning over Geoff to shield him from the smoldering debris still raining down on them.

 

"Are you alright?" Ryan searched Geoff's face for any sign of discomfort.

 

"I'm fine. Just get off me and let's go find those idiots."

 

Elsewhere, Michael—winded but otherwise unscathed—pulled Ray to his feet.

 

"Where's Geoff?"

 

The warrior was forced to shout over the cacophony erupting around them. Fire like geysers burst forth, raining down upon them as the creature circled them. Out of instinct, Ray threw his arms up to protect his face.

 

“I don’t know, maybe Ryan’s with him.” Ray grimaced into the brightness. He cried a warning as the creature prepared to unleash another fireball. Michael skipped to the side as the projectile came crashing down, plowing through the red stone with ease and leaving flames in its wake.

 

“How the hell do we kill this thing?” Michael shouted.

 

"Not like this." Ray glanced around. Something had drawn the creature's attention from them. "Look." To his left were two shadowed figures, one shielding the other from harm. Ray knew it to be Ryan from the knight's stance; he stood strong, blade drawn and pointed towards the monster hovering before them. Behind him, Geoff began to slink away. Ryan drawing the attention of their enemy made for an easy escape.

 

But, their ruse failed to produce the desired results.

 

From where he stood, Ray could see Ryan was losing its attention. It was more concerned with the lifeform moving about behind him.

 

Ray turned. "Michael."

 

"Yeah. Let's go."

 

The two immediately drew their blades. There was a brief flash of doubt in Michael’s mind that they could even do anything to fend off the beast. There was an ear piercing screech and another fireball descended.

 

“Ray!” Michael called out a warning, reaching push the knight forward out of harm’s way. The explosion erupted behind him; the creature had overshot its target. Michael could feel the blazing heat smack him in his backside alongside a scattering of shrapnel. His years of training wouldn't be enough to fend off the beasts lurking within a shadowed realm.

 

Instinct drove him forward, charging at the creature with a shout.

 

"Look here, you ugly fuck!" Michael, yards within the monster's striking distance, made harmless jabs at its many tentacles hanging limp under it. "Yeah, that's it. Try to fireball me, I fucking dare you!"

 

It let out a pitiful screech that had the four of them desperately pressing their palms to their ears to drown out the piercing sound.

 

Michael blindly swung, his sword making brief contact with a dangling appendage and pulling another cry from the beast.

 

"Damn." The warrior glanced behind him. Ray was no where to be seen, and the distinct sound of another fireball about to be launched forced him to turn.

 

A silhouette outlined by a fiery blaze leapt in front of him, bringing a sword down in time to strike down the flaming projectile. It erupted before them; the beast cried out, shying away from the impact as the two men were swept off their feet.

 

Michael, heaving for breath where he lay, noticed Ryan standing before him. Flames clawed their way ever higher, it seemed, illuminating Ryan's figure bright orange and red. His eyes appeared almost alight with that same intensity. His sword, gripped tight in his hand, trembled with him as his adrenaline raged. If Michael hadn't known better, he would think Ryan was poised to strike him down.

 

He would be lying if he said he hadn't thought about that.

 

But, Ryan only extended his hand. His eyes shone with fear, and the fire that once touched the top of the world died down almost entirely.

 

"We need to leave!"

 

Ryan's insistence spurred Michael to angrily bat the offered hand away.

 

"I _know_." He played his bitterness off Ryan saving him, though they both knew how little trust Michael retained in the knight. "Let's get out of here while it's distracted."

 

He ran off without waiting for Ryan, who hurried after him as a pang of guilt struck him once more.

 

* * *

 

Perched atop an adjacent hill, Ray stood. At his side, Geoff watched the events unfold beneath them. Though their escape succeeded, it left Geoff winded and trembling from the exertion. He had refused to sit a moment and recover, however, as his own stubbornness prevented him from succumbing to his weakness.

 

More than once, Geoff forced Ray to stay with him until Michael and Ryan regrouped with them.

 

“And, if they die?” There was no inflection whatsoever in Ray’s voice. “If they die while I stand here watching? What then, Geoff?”

 

Ray knew the answer before Geoff opened his mouth.

 

“Then, we find them again.” Geoff flinched as another wail pierced the air. “And, we get the hell out of here.”

 

Silence descended between the pair. Both noticed the figures running in their direction, and Ray gave a shout.

 

“Up here!”

 

It took only a moment before they were joined by the fleeing pair.

 

“Alright, let’s get the hell out of dodge.” Ryan made an immediate beeline for Geoff. He dropped down in front of him with arms extended backwards. “Piggyback ride, my King?”

 

“For the love of—” Though Geoff’s initial response was a refusal, the seemingly omnipresent cries from the nearby beast made for an easy change of mind. Geoff mumbled a “don’t fucking drop me” as he climbed onto Ryan’s back, and the four absconded into the unknown.

 

* * *

 

The creature trailed behind them almost sluggishly, fading out of view sooner than the troupe anticipated. Only at Ryan’s discretion did they continue on to make sure they had indeed left the foul beast a safe distance away.

 

With a red fog perpetually blanketing them, no one had any clue as to whether it was dawn or dusk. There was a brief discussion about what their plan of action should be, whether to keep on or set up and turn in for a few hours. Ultimately, they collectively agreed rest was in dire need. The first watch was given to Ryan (despite Michael’s blatant disapproval) after his fervent insistence that he would manage without sleep for a while yet.

 

After he was sure everyone was asleep, Ryan peered over to the slumped form of Geoff. The former king was breathing shallowly, sharp and uneven breaths that crawled underneath Ryan’s skin. He had done that to his friend. His selfishness and conceit was as heavy a poison as the malignancy slowly swirling in Geoff’s blood. A lump was beginning to form in Ryan’s throat no matter how hard he tried to swallow his guilt.

 

“Ryan?” The aforementioned knight jerked to attention at the sound of Geoff’s voice.

 

“I didn’t know you were awake,” Ryan said quickly, nearly tripping over his words. A watery chuckle escaped Geoff.

 

“Oh, I’ve been awake. How could I sleep after all that excitement?” Geoff watched him with soulful blue eyes, peering at him with an unsatiated curiosity that burned behind those irises. Ryan could feel the waves of concern and questioning pulsating from those eyes. A moment of silence hung between the two, heavy with worry and maybe even a hint of regret. “I never really told you, but — how do I say this — it’s kind of difficult to explain.”

 

Ryan’s fears dissipated in a flurry of confusion. “What is?”

 

“You see, the world is like a grand chess match. A cliché, I know.” Geoff settled into the red stone nook with a heavy sigh, prompting a concerned look from Ryan. “You know chess. It’s a political game. You’re locked in an unending dance with your opponent. Winner takes all; loser takes a trip to the Nether.”

 

“How poetic.” Ryan watched his friend carefully, assessing the man’s wounds with a sudden interest and an unspoken question lingering in his eyes.

 

“You’re wondering why.” Geoff’s lips curled into a smirk at the subtle nod of Ryan’s head. “Why suddenly stop the dance? Why pull back the pawns? Why was King Geoffrey the first in the Ramsey line to do absolutely _nothing_?”

 

Silence fell between the two, heavy with thought. Ryan shifted, moving his gaze to his hands. He absentmindedly traced the creases in his palms with his eyes. The callouses along the padding of his hands, rough and dark like tanned leather from years and years of working with them, the faint scars crisscrossing his fingers, sharp contrasting lines, remnants of training with sharp swords: these were the hands that killed, and suddenly these hands were foreign to him.

 

“I’ll tell you, Ryan.” Geoff’s voice eased Ryan from his internal revelation. “I’ll tell you why. In truth, I never stopped that dance. I slowed it to a slow waltz. Peace is a beautiful thing, but it’s fragile, Ryan.” A pause. Geoff was catching his breath still. He held up a thin and bony hand to ward away Ryan’s concern. “For just that time I ruled, I wanted to have peace. Peace for the weary. Rest for the heartbroken. One rivalry for the sake of rivalry should not get in the way of that peace.”

 

“But, Geoff—”

 

“But nothing, Ryan.” Geoff interrupted him without hesitation. “War is war. You don’t think maybe I watched my father and his father and _his_ father all fight over something that was already lost in history? No one even knew why they fought. Maybe just because the North and the south are opposites? Who knows? But perhaps, just perhaps, the fighting could stop. Perhaps the death and the sorrow could stop, even for a few years. _Peace_.

 

“Ryan, I was king for only a decade, and I brought peace to the kingdom. What could I have done if I had ruled as long as my father? To put it simply, Rye, I wanted to undo what has been done. Politics is complicated and harsh and overall amoral, but I just wanted _change_.” A meaningful glance stole Ryan’s attention. Soulful blue eyes bored holes into him.

 

“Geoff, I—”

 

“Ryan, I understood your concerns. I am a king, James. I was trained in war-making. What harm is it to want peace? I’ll leave you with that for tonight. Good night, Rye.” With those final words, Geoff curled in on himself in an attempt to make himself comfortable.

 

Ryan slid away from his king and brought his knees to his chest. Peace, he could understand. He, as an initial foreigner to the Ramsey kingdom, could understand the need for peace. War was tiresome, costly, and brutal, but war was necessary to ensure peace. Wasn’t that what he had learned over the course of his life?

  
But it was not Ryan’s position to continue the debate. He returned his attention to his hands, clenching and unclenching them into fists. These were strong hands that once held vanity and pride. There was a spark of scoffing laughter that almost forced its way out of Ryan’s throat, but he remained silent for Geoff’s sake. What a foolish man he was, and self-pity would do nothing more than spiral out of control into a deep depression. If Ryan said he wanted nothing more than to dive into the apathy of depression, he wouldn’t have been lying.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How was that? Was the action-packed enough? Will it tie you over until the next update? I certainly hope so. The Ghast scene was fun to write.
> 
> Here are the songs for this chapter:  
> [Nest of Fiends](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sFycwUZz5sU&list=UUSeJA6az0GrNM4_-pl3HQSQ)  
> [Healing](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Fqnk70mYqlk&index=4&list=UUSeJA6az0GrNM4_-pl3HQSQ)
> 
> And, the first team song!  
> Team Magnum Dong: [Solitude](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7oAVudKjg8M&index=2&list=UUZg2-TZBGrwRbuettVf10uw) and [The Essence of Life](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=P5l0l_3QoHg&index=10&list=UUZg2-TZBGrwRbuettVf10uw)


	6. The sweetness of reunion is the joy of heaven.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy fricking fracking crap. We're back! For those of you who were unaware, earlier this year Sapph's school Google account was deleted unexpectedly. As a result, nearly everything we had on Sleeping Beauty and The King of the Golden Mountain was gone and therefore unrecoverable. Since then, we have been trying to recover as much of the progress we had, and nearly a year since the last update, we're finally ready! We apologize for the long wait and thank you for your patience! Part I is almost over!
> 
> The chapter title is taken from Richard Paul Evans' _Lost December._

The dissonance of monster shrieks coupled with his heavy breaths spurred the man forward, his legs moving completely on their own as he focused his attention on the danger surrounding him. He was alone when he descended into the fiery depths of the Nether. He was unsure if he should feel grateful for the solitude or cheated that death wasn’t as relieving as he hoped.

 

He discarded the helmet he bore the moment his sense of awareness returned upon his arrival. Its noisy clatter as it hit the ground alerted a blazing entity nearby. The sound must have irritated it, for the moment its empty gaze bore down on the Nether’s newest occupant, it charged. Its cries and grunts were unsettling, and at the moment, it was the only thing keeping the knight moving on. Even though his lungs ached and his legs burned from the drawn out chase, he kept on.

 

Luck was certainly not on his side. A second identical beast joined the first and both continued the hot pursuit of the stranger.

 

_They're probably afraid._

 

It wasn’t long before his pursuers lost interest in their target, falling back slowly until their distressed shrieks were nothing but mere memory.

 

The knight, winded and ready to drop, found seclusion at last. Silence persisted as he struggled further on, his sluggish steps kicking up pebbles as he walked. The blazing heat forced him to remove the armor still adorning his person. It was a slow process. Piece by piece, the blue-tinted armor fell with a clatter behind him. He kept none but his boots, still clunking step after step. He refused to stop, to lose at the hands of the hellish environment bent on defeating him.

 

As was the job of a palace knight and former Captain of the Guard.

 

Kerry blinked away the sweat and forged forward, climbing the mountainous incline. The brief flood of panic flushed through his core as his left foot was suddenly without grounding. He winced as he gripped the steep mountainside and scrambled to find a solid place to set his foot. Still, the knight pursued the top despite his stinging hands. His palms were crisscrossed with cuts and laced with thin trails of blood. As he ascended, he set his sights on the top, ignoring the pain.

 

When he reached a high enough plateau, he flopped to the ground, breathing heavily from the exertion. Kerry wiped the back of his hand across his brow. After a few moments of resting, he pushed himself back to his feet to survey his surroundings. A frown crossed his features when he noted the vast lake of bright, burning orange bubbling a few hundred yards from the base of the red mountain. A pier of rock stretched across the middle, barely bridging the expanse of hot lava. To both his relief and dismay, there was a group of four silhouettes, obviously human, skirting the edge of the lake, heading towards the much too thin bridge. A spike of panic jarred Kerry into motion. With newfound strength in urgency, he plunged down the side of the mountain, desperate to reach his fellow humans before they attempted to make a grave mistake that would end in a fiery second death. His boots clanked against the rock, sending uncomfortable vibrations through his legs.

 

The troupe wasn’t far, but Kerry needed to grab their attention before they walked into another grave.

 

So, he called out to them. “Wait!”

 

* * *

 

“Geoff, where are we going?”

 

“We need to cross this.” Geoff continued to shuffle forward, ignoring the disbelieving scoff that came from both Ray and Michael.

 

“We need to cross _what?_ The boiling pit of death? Haven't you noticed we’re in actual hell?” Michael sputtered. Geoff spared a moment to shoot an annoyed glare in his direction.

 

“I’m completely aware, Michael, but we need to cross.”

 

“So, the grass is greener on the other side of the hot molten lava?” Ray piped in, momentarily resurfacing from his solemn silence. “Metaphorically speaking, of course.”

 

Geoff heaved a sigh, though a smile graced his thin face for a moment at Ray’s snark. “Metaphorically speaking, yes.”

 

Michael grimaced. He cast his gaze to the distant shore of spiked rocks and red haze. It was barely visible, but it did not take visibility to invoke visions of horrific creatures and screeching monsters in Michael’s mind. The unease that rose from the prospects felt like an icy cold hand sliding down his spine. The hairs on the back of his neck prickled with anxiety.

 

Ryan walked slightly behind Ray, completely silent. His eyes seemed trained on some point fixed in the distance, but his cerulean eyes were unfocused. Michael turned his gaze towards him, barely masked disdain sparking in his eyes. Ray placed a silent hand on the warrior’s shoulder and shook his head. After a moment, Michael scowled and wrenched his shoulder from Ray’s grasp.

 

“So is this a predetermined path or?” Michael quickened his pace barely to walk side by side with his king.

 

“Not really. I just feel like we need to cross.” Geoff smirked as Michael scoffed incredulously.

 

“Wait! Wait!” A voice echoed from a distance up the mountainside.

 

Geoff stopped. He held out his hand, and Michael halted at his side. "Did you hear that?"

 

"Yeah." The warrior turned his gaze upwards and squinted through the red fog. "There's someone on the ridge."

 

* * *

 

From his perch, Kerry could see the strangers had halted and were staring up at something on the mountain. Relief flooded through him. At least he had caught their attention. But how well had they heard him? He couldn't very well shout his warning from the mountainside. It would run the risk of misinterpretation or even attracting more monstrous creatures. Two things Kerry wasn't sure he'd be able to handle given his current situation. He held back a yelp as his left foot slid an inch down the mountainside. Rocks bounced down the ridge into the haze below. Kerry couldn't help but shiver. It was a long, deep drop to the bottom.

 

But the lake of lava was deeper.

 

Determination flooded his core and suddenly he was carefully sliding down to meet the group. His hands scrambled for purchase on their own accord as he descended. His palms left smears of blood on each handhold as the rough surface bit his skin. Kerry ignored the discomfort and continued to descend. Just before reaching a safe height from the ground, his grip faltered. His breath caught in his chest and stayed there until his lungs burned for oxygen. A few moments of anxiety passed, and Kerry was on solid ground again, breathing heavily under the exertion. He squatted for a few seconds and waited until his breathing returned to normal.

 

Silence struck the group once he turned to meet their confused stares.

 

“Kerry?” Immediately, Kerry recognized the voice and turned his gaze to a painfully familiar face. Geoffrey gawked at him, surprise blooming in his eyes. “Why are you—?”

 

Out of habit, Kerry knelt in the rough rocky terrain. With his head bowed, he didn't witness the flash of annoyance that passed through Geoff's features. After a moment, he was standing again.

 

"I'm glad I got to you in time," he said, relief coloring his voice. "Were you meaning to cross?"

 

"Yes." Geoff eyed him warily. "Is that a problem?"

 

"The bridge is too thin, your Majesty,” Kerry immediately protested. “It won’t sustain much weight. I'm sure you need to cross but I didn't want to see anyone fall in!" He gestured towards the slab of rock protruding out into the bubbling lava. "It'll break halfway across. I've seen it from the mountaintop. It isn't safe."

 

Michael arched an eyebrow at Geoff who seemed rather preoccupied. "I guess we shouldn't cross then."

 

"That doesn't matter right now," Geoff snapped. Worry creased his brow. "Kerry, if you're here then you must have—"

 

"Died, yes. I’ve gathered that much," Kerry finished for him, surprisingly calm for the situation presented. "The last thing I remember is a sword and blood."

 

"Neck wound?" Michael pointed to the bright red slash across Kerry's throat. Reflexively, Kerry ghosted his fingers over it. Ryan averted his gaze, turning his eyes away from his knight. A sick feeling pervaded his being and the anxiety threatened to steal him into oblivion again.

 

"Yes." Kerry squinted his eyes in concentration as he scraped through his memories. Realization settled in his veins. “I died in combat.”

 

"With who? You’re a talented swordsman, Kerry. You wouldn’t go down without a fight. Who killed you?" Curiosity stole Michael’s caution, and a grin appeared on his face despite himself. He couldn’t suppress the sudden surge of a small happiness at the annoying captain’s death, but he squelched it immediately. A moment of contemplative silence stole the group’s breath collectively as Kerry regarded Michael.

 

"Gavin." Kerry seemed surprised by his own answer and pondered his response before giving a slow affirmative nod.

 

Geoff flinched at the name and turned away, skeletal hands gripping his large tunic. Ray immediately felt a clinch in his heart, the phantom blade once again digging deeper. Ryan turned his gaze to the lake of magma, refusing to meet anyone's eyes. Michael froze, his eyes wide. He clenched his fists, and the grin fell from his face.

 

“So, it’s true then,” he said. “Gavin killed both Kerry and Ryan.”

 

At his name, Ryan took a step backward and turned away. Kerry glanced in his direction. Confusion bloomed, eminent, until he squashed any trace from his expression. Ryan remained quiet, refusing to answer the unspoken question.

 

“Ryan, too?” Disbelief colored Kerry’s small voice. He couldn’t help but feel a surge of disappointment as he watched Ryan’s silhouette against the glowing heat of the Nether. A tension brewed in the dry air thick enough to be felt.

 

“I don’t _fucking_ understand,” Geoff spat suddenly. “This whole thing's a mess.”

 

“Indeed.” Kerry agreed. “I barely believe it myself, but what’s done is done, and I’m saying that you shouldn’t cross that lake.”

 

Relieved to drop the subject and be back to a somewhat easier topic, Ray nodded. “If Kerry’s right, we might not make it across before falling deeper into this hell. I don’t know about you, but I’d rather not bathe in molten lava.”

 

“Is there a way around the lake, Kerry?” Geoff regained his composure and lifted his head.

 

“You could go around,” Kerry suggested. “It’ll take longer, but it’s definitely safer than the bridge.”

 

“Let’s do that, Geoff,” Michael said. His face was still pale. Ray nodded hesitantly.

 

“Fine.” Geoff shuffled ahead with a heavy sigh. “Let’s move.”

 

After the bittersweet reunion with Kerry, the troupe set off again on their trek through the Nether. A heavy silence fell over them, and Ryan hung back, keeping his head low and going unnoticed. The guilt plaguing him over Kerry's death still weighed heavily on him, and every time he caught a glimpse of the angry red line scarring the young knight's throat, Ryan felt another stab of guilt pierce his heart. He couldn't shake away the memory of Kerry choking on his own blood and falling at his feet, the ugly red substance oozing down polished iron.

 

Ryan only wished the ground would open and swallow him whole. At least then he would be free from the guilt.

 

He hadn't yet spoken to Kerry since the incident. He didn't know how or what he would say. Should he apologize for getting him killed? Or, should he perhaps seek forgiveness for lying and corrupting the young knight? Ryan didn't deserve it, he knew. Kerry didn't owe him anything. If he chose not to forgive Ryan for his misgivings, then Ryan would have no choice but to accept it.

 

Even if it killed him again.

 

He strayed further and further from the group, dragging his feet along the red earth. More than once he nearly found himself lost, using only the faint outlines of footprints to retake some lost ground.

 

The third time Ryan strayed, someone finally noticed.

 

Ray took up the rear with him. "You'll never keep up if you don't look where you're going."

 

He spoke softly, and Ryan was grateful. He didn't want to draw the attention of the entire troupe and impede their progress.

 

"I've done a fair job of it so far," Ryan quipped, looking up at his companion. "I only got lost twice."

 

"Three times," Ray corrected.

 

"Three?"

 

Ray nodded. "Not physically, though."

 

Ryan's gaze fell to the ground once more. He wasn't wrong. He had spent those last months of his life carelessly wandering through his own false version of the world.

 

"Right." Ryan tugged at his tunic absently. "It's . . . I let myself believe what I was doing was the right thing. I was convinced everything was going well, up until — " he shuddered. "I can't ever get over it. The guilt, the shame. The _fear_ , I — "

 

Ray reached out a steady hand and gripped Ryan's arm. "What're you afraid of, Ry?"

 

Ryan stopped. Ray stilled at his side and watched, gaze searching Ryan's mixed expression.

 

"I'm afraid I'll never earn your forgiveness."

 

The younger watched the elder struggle to meet his gaze, noticed the faraway look in Ryan’s eyes like he was losing himself to the deepest depths of his mind even then. It was hard, he’d admit, to maintain eye-contact, but Ray held his gaze even if Ryan was actually looking through him.

 

That thought made him visibly shudder.

 

Ryan seemed to come back to himself then, no longer staring straight through Ray like he was merely air. He looked like he had something else to add, and he opened his mouth to speak but didn’t get the words out before they were being called to.

 

“Hey, stragglers! Get your asses over here!”

 

Both knights immediately turned their attention to Michael who stood on the nearest ridge waving for them to follow. Ray waved briefly to signal their understanding, then Michael disappeared on the other side.

 

“We should go,” Ryan said suddenly. He began moving again, not looking back to see if Ray was following.

 

It was a lost cause to try coaxing Ryan to speak, so Ray let the matter fall, if only for the moment. He quickly caught up to Ryan, and they walked in silence. There was a tension in the air that hadn’t existed just moments ago, and Ray felt as though it was choking him.

 

When they climbed over the ridge, both knights stopped at the peak and stared in awe at the large, black portal standing above the troupe below. Cheerful shouts and relieved sighs met Ray’s ears, and the slightest smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.

  
They had finally found their ticket home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It really does feel great to be back into the swing of things.
> 
> Chapter song:  
> [Myth](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CJ8FDqPhaIw).
> 
> Character song:  
> Kerry — [Fear no Darkness](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tWpe2ppRRGg).


	7. If you don't deal with your demons, they will deal with you, and it's gonna hurt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, guess what! This chapter marks the end of Part I! After this, things will really start to pick up. We hope you're ready for it!

The portal loomed before them, towering high and illuminating their forms with a soft purple glow. It emanated a menacing sound that had shivers running down their spines. Despite the brief sweep of relief that had gripped them, there was a sense of foreboding that trickled into the air. A fairy tale stood before them, constructed of glossy black stone.

 

Michael gaped at it in disbelief as Geoff shuffled forward to touch the black stone. As soon as his fingers brushed the surface, he yanked back, clutching his fingers. Michael lunged towards him with a worried cry. Michael gripped the older man’s shoulder. Geoff shrugged off his hand.

 

“It’s cold.” He shook out the shock from his hand, eyeing the portal with intrigue. “Very cold.”

 

“Are you sure that this is it?” Ray piped up from beside Ryan.

 

“This is it. I know it is.” Geoff approached the structure again. He then added quietly, “This has to be it.”

 

“So, what do we do now?” Michael eyed the portal with suspicion. Geoff paused a few feet from the whirling entrance. With great effort, he squared his shoulders.

 

“We go through.”

 

“Well, are we even sure it’s safe to use?” Ray asked tentatively, surveying the area. He suppressed the urge to jump when Geoff clicked his tongue, resulting in the sharp sound resonating throughout the cave. He offered a grim smile when he caught Geoff’s exasperated glare.

 

“There’s no way to _be_ sure, Ray,” the king sighed. “I only know what I know through growing up on the fairy tales. For all I know, we could be stepping into a giant mess.”

 

“Not like we’re already _in_ one anyways,” Michael growled, impatient. “Who’s gonna volunteer for the portal of mystery?”

 

“I’ll go—” Geoff had began to gather his wits to enter the purple vortex, but the warrior immediately grasped his shoulder.

 

“No way in hell, Geoff! I am _not_ letting you risk yourself first.” Michael spat. There was a pause. “I volunteer the traitorous bastard as tribute.”

 

“Michael!” Geoff snapped. His bark fell on deaf ears. Geoff went to shrug off his hand, but Michael was already advancing towards Ryan. Geoff stood helplessly by as Michael forcefully grabbed the front of Ryan’s shirt and pulled him close. A shiver fled down Geoff’s spine. He could feel the burning cold hatred bleeding from Michael’s very being.

 

Ryan blinked, somewhat dismayed by the sudden aggression. Michael’s stance was that of a wild bear. Strength unbound shivered through him. For a brief moment, a stab of envy pierced Geoff’s heart. Michael shoved Ryan away, sending the man staggering a few feet back. Ryan stared, wide-eyed as Michael snarled. Untempered fury turned Michael into a beast. Fear and panic struck Ryan to the core, but he couldn’t look away as Michael continued approaching.

 

“You were quick to throw _us_ into your schemes. It’s only fair that _you_ take to the front lines this time, you fucking bastard!”

 

“ _Michael!_ ” Geoff jerked forward, himself enraged, but he was too late. Michael leaped forward and rammed Ryan into the foreboding violet sheen. The portal sucked Ryan in with a disconcerting bubbling noise. In a fraction of a moment, Ryan was gone.

 

* * *

 

The violet swirls consumed him, thick wisping tendrils curling around his arms, legs, restricting his movement and sending him tumbling through a rapid vortex. Even in its smoke-like form, the indigo haze pulled the air from his lungs as it crushed his chest. It entered every exposed orifice, suffocating him slowly, giving him the impression that the purple essence was taunting him. A ringing in his ears persisted throughout, making his head throb at its blaring intensity. He was sure the void he was stuck in possessed some varying form of intelligence, and he was convinced said entity was aiming to kill him. The edges of his vision were dotted with black and white speckles of nothing that slowly consumed his sight entirely until a black wall was all he could see. Unconsciousness was imminent. Ryan longed for it, _pleaded_ for it to put an end to the miserable torment he was experiencing.

 

A voice cut through his agony, menacing in its raspy echo that reverberated in his head.

 

_Do you wish to forget?_

 

The pain faded in increments. The longer he pondered the inquiry, the quicker it lessened.

 

His vision returned. Deep magenta smoke dissipated and released him, allowing a rush of air to flow to his lungs the moment the intruding element absconded from his body. Something solid stood beneath his feet, and he realized he was standing again. The looming question seemed to have prompted the mist to disperse, to free him.

 

_Do you wish to forget?_

 

Again, the voice spoke. Its taunting inflection spurred memories of blood and despair to bubble to the surface of conscious thought. Everything he tried so desperately to forget became a torturous playback. He stood in pools of blood pouring heavily from gaping wounds marring his body. He bore the injuries inflicted upon his friends, the agony they felt in their final moments multiplied exponentially for him. His throat was raw from the scream tearing itself from his chest.

 

This was his punishment, he knew. He deserved it.

 

The disembodied voice finally took on a shape. The mist swirled again, up and up right before his eyes until a discernible figure stood in its place, solid as Ryan himself and just as real. It was striking; Ryan had expected something fouler, inhuman, but the figure looked like no more than a normal man. He was Ryan’s height, though he seemed to loom over him and make him shrink in his presence. His smile was cutting, piercing Ryan’s brief moment of relief with the sharp sense of fear.

 

And yet, Ryan felt unafraid.

 

Ryan stared a moment longer before the stranger finally spoke. “What is it you wish to forget?”

 

Though he couldn’t place why, Ryan found the voice to possess much less unease in its tone. It lacked the menacing echo that twisted it and made it something much more evil, more . . . _demonic_. It truly was like a human voice.

 

The question struck him, however, and Ryan found he did not want to answer it. He was reluctant to relive the memories again.

 

Luckily for him, the man seem to sense his unwillingness to give an answer. So, he just smiled and backtracked, “I’m sorry, that’s a bit forward, isn’t it? I’m rushing things.” He appeared genuinely regretful, which struck Ryan as odd. “Let’s start with your name. Can I know that?”

 

Ryan nodded absently. “Ryan,” he answered, albeit shakily, but that was all he said.

 

“Ryan,” the other repeated, like he was testing the name out for himself. “Good, good. Nice to meet you, Ryan. You can call me Joel.”

 

“Joel?” Ryan couldn’t stop himself. There was a brief moment of hesitation on his part as he worded his next question in his head. “That seems a bit — “ He trailed off, confusion blooming on his face as his eyebrows furrowed in thought. It didn’t sit right with him. Such a human name for someone who materialized out of smoke? It felt wrong.

 

Joel chuckled at Ryan’s expression. “It’s weird, I know. I have another name, but if I told you that, I would’ve scared you off.” Joel stepped closer until he was able to rest a hand on Ryan’s arm. The proximity was alarming, as it reached near zero almost immediately. “I don’t want to scare you,” he said. His voice dropped suddenly, low in Ryan’s ear. Joel was so close that Ryan could feel the breath hitting him.

 

A gasp slipped through Ryan’s lips without warning, prompting Joel to laugh and put some distance between them. “You’re fun, Ryan. I think we’ll get along well.”

 

He couldn’t help it; his voice cracked a bit when he spoke. “Fun? How do you mean?”

 

The piercing grin returned, and Joel did nothing to cover it up. “I can help you forget, Ryan.”

 

“Can you?” He sounded more desperate than he wanted, but he was intrigued. “Yes, _please_ , I — “

 

“Yes?” Joel echoed. He tilted his head and regarded Ryan for a moment. “Hm.” He stepped closer, and when Ryan did nothing to move away, grinned wider. “I’ll have to see if you’re _worthy,_ of course. I won’t help you forget something unless I find it . . . significant.”

 

Oh, how Ryan longed for the sweet bliss of forgetfulness. He yearned to forget the pain he brought down upon the people he cared about. He wanted nothing more than to forget it all, to forget his deeds and traitorous actions against his friends, deny its existence.

 

He nodded eagerly. “It is,” he insisted. “I — “ Ryan hesitated. He could show him just how significant the memories were as proof, show him how he manipulated his friends and preemptively caused their deaths. “ — I can show you.”

 

Joel’s smile twisted into a frown. “But, Ryan . . . that would hurt you, wouldn’t it? I don’t want you to hurt yourself.”

 

Yes, bringing himself to recall everything would certainly cause him grief, but if he wanted to prove he needed Joel’s help, he would do it. He’d do anything to make the pain go away forever.

 

“Ryan.” Joel was in his space again, his hand resting on Ryan’s shoulder. “Let me do the work, okay?” A small smile tugged at his lips. “You deserve peace after so long.”

 

His hand trailed down Ryan’s chest, to the other shoulder, and across his back as he circled the knight over and over. Ryan heard him humming, and a fuzzy haze fell over him until he was only dimly aware of Joel’s presence. Faint, purple smoke that Ryan hadn’t noticed before swirled in his footsteps. The hand was still on him, never once leaving its path. It too was emanating the same purple aura. Only when the hand stopped in the center of his chest did Ryan look up. Joel was watching him with glowing purple eyes.

 

“Let me in, Ryan. Let me help.”

 

Ryan opened his mouth to speak, to grant him permission, but Joel wasn’t looking for words. He pressed a finger to the knight’s lips and, mirroring the action on himself, gently shushed him before turning into a plume of smoke. With his mouth still agape, it allowed the mist entrance, granting it access to Ryan’s mind as it choked him only briefly.

 

When he regained his breath, the menacing voice returned once more.

 

_I’ll help you forget._

 

In a rush, Ryan faded into a black oblivion and relief flooded his senses.

 

* * *

 

Silence boiled. Michael stood in front of the portal, breathing heavily. Ray gawked. Kerry grimaced. Words could not express the unbound fury that raged through Geoff. The portal stood still, unaffected by the turmoil.

 

With great effort, Geoff shuffled forward and gripped Michael’s arm with all the strength he could muster. He felt Michael wither somewhat under his touch. The warrior tensed.

 

“What the _hell_ are you thinking?” Geoff growled. “I sure hope you’re ready to go yourself to follow him.”

 

Michael opened his mouth to argue, but the unbridled anger burning in Geoff’s eyes tore away any shred of defiance churning within him. In a fit of frustration, Michael ripped his arm out of Geoff’s grasp and spat, “ _Fine_.”

 

He eyed the portal towering over them with unease. A moment passed where Michael was almost too afraid to step forward into the purple sheen, but he could feel Geoff’s eyes burning holes in his skull, judging him without saying a word.

 

With a deep breath and a final challenging glance at Geoff, Michael stepped into the portal, letting swathes of purple and eerie whispers engulf him. The world around him faded into black, and as he lost his grip on it, he fell into the dark void beneath his feet.

 

The fear overtook him, then, growing the longer he fell. Eventually, when he could no longer tell which way was up, he was standing once again on solid ground. Panicked and frustrated, Michael stomped his foot on the ground and let out an angry shout. There was nothing beyond him but a lingering darkness. Not even a speck of light pierced through the persistent void. He wondered vaguely about Ryan and whether or not he was faring the same, but a voice he didn’t recognize pulled him out of his thoughts.

 

_Why are you so angry?_

 

The question lingered. He knew the answer, and being reminded of the wrongs done to him and his friends kindled his rage once more.

 

_Why are you so angry?_

 

Michael clenched his fists almost painfully. An illusion of Ryan appeared, and when it smirked at him, Michael lunged for it. “You _traitor!_ ” With his fist raised, he took a swing at the apparition. His fist connected with nothing but air, leaving Michael heaving and angrier than ever.

 

“You’re pathetic.”

 

Michael flinched. The voice he heard earlier sounded less like an illusion and much more human.

 

He turned to see a man standing in front of him, looking as out of place as Michael felt. When their eyes met, a surge of anger shot through him, causing him to step back as if to steady himself.

 

The man looked unamused. “You’re an animal,” he said, disgust clear in his curt tone.

 

Michael scoffed at him. “Yeah? If you knew the shit he did, you’d be a little pissed, too.”

 

“I’m well aware of what he’s done.” The man crossed his arms over his chest, scrutinizing Michael. “And, before you ask, I’m Gus.”

 

“Right.” Michael met the other’s gaze easily, defiance alight in his eyes. “I’m Michael.”

 

Gus nodded. He approached Michael without hesitation, staring him down until they were face-to-face. “What if I told you I could help you hurt him?”

 

As tempting as it sounded, Michael could only laugh. “Yeah, right. I don’t need your help.”

 

“Clearly you do,” Gus countered. “You have no idea how to control your anger.”

 

“And, what? You’re going to offer me your services?” Michael looked at him in disbelief. “Fuck off. I don’t need you.”

 

Michael spun on his heel and began marching away. He only managed to take four steps until Gus rematerialized before him, looking furious. Purple irises burned bright, and Michael felt himself reel back in sudden fear.

 

“This is _exactly_ why you need me,” Gus spat. “You’re _uncontainable_. You have no _control_.”

 

Silence hung over them as the knight mulled over his words. It was true that his rage was one of his more well-known features, and he would admit that he had experienced times where he did let it get out of control. His mind wandered to the dispute with Ray. That was the first time Michael lashed out at his friend. He could still remember the guilt he felt after hearing of Ray’s suicide. Michael was convinced his anger had been Ray’s breaking point. Even now, though Ray seemed to forgive him, Michael still couldn’t shake the feeling away.

 

A smirk crossed Gus’s face. “You agree with me.”

 

Michael, staring down at his feet, nodded.

 

“I knew you’d come around.” Gus watched him with interest, as if he could see all the emotion playing out in Michael’s head. “Do you want my help, now?”

 

Again, Michael nodded.

 

“Good.” Gus let out a cackle and disappeared in a plume of violet smoke.

 

The sound echoed as the mist swirled around him, faster and faster until it trapped him in a violent vortex that sucked the air away like a vacuum. Michael began sputtering, gasping for breath as he fell to his knees. His hand instinctively moved to his neck as if to release the pressure there, but there was nothing for him to grab, nothing for him to do. His lungs burned, and his vision dwindled the longer he suffocated. He would die down here, choking on nothing until the need to breathe became irrelevant.

 

All at once, the vortex dispersed and Michael was released. He gasped for air and reveled in the sweet relief soothing his aching lungs. Moments passed and he remained kneeling, breathing deeply until his head was no longer spinning. When he could finally think clearly, however, rage began bubbling within him. He wanted to scream, to curse the entity that nearly killed him, and to get his hands around its throat. Michael was burning from within. Heat rose from him, so hot that his hands burned from where they rested on the ground. He reeled back in shock, leaving glowing purple handprints behind. Before he could realize, flames shot up from beneath him and consumed him. Michael screamed as scorching agony shot through him. It lasted a mere moment, and he passed out with the constant echo of laughter in his ears.

 

* * *

 

There was a brief moment of panic as the violet rolls engulfed Geoff as he stepped into the portal after Michael disappeared. He wasn’t sure if he expected to suddenly see daylight of the overworld or not, but he was greeted with a vast darkness that seemed to swallow his very existence. Never before had he felt so small, even confined to the bed for months never made him feel such weakness and loneliness. The darkness seemed to crush the oxygen from his lungs, leaving his weakened body frantically clawing for air. For a moment, Geoff’s mind blared warning sirens that maybe they had fallen deeper into the Nether instead of crawling back to the lands of life. A blink of white light caught his eye and suddenly, the darkness condensed into a purple smoke.

 

Geoff’s lungs filled with the sweet taste of air once again, leaving the king heaving and hiccuping. The smoke seemed to bear an intelligence of its own. It swirled and swayed before Geoff’s vision. Violet patterns oscillated back and forth. Faces appeared and disappeared from the thick smoke.

 

_Do you wish to be strong?_

 

The voice seemed to breathe from inside the purple fog. Caught by surprise, Geoff only blinked in dismay.

 

_Do you wish to be strong?_

 

Again, the voice whispered seductively, so quiet that Geoff almost had to strain to make out the words. In a second, there was a solid foundation beneath him and he was upright. Just as he was regaining his bearings, the smoke slowly settled into a human form in front of him.

 

“Do you believe yourself to be weak?”

 

The voice, suddenly louder and less menacing, startled Geoff into raising his head and meeting the piercing eyes of a middle-aged man dressed in a simple indigo tunic. Amused by Geoff’s reaction, the man grinned. Something about him was off-putting, but he smiled so warmly that Geoff was tempted to let down his guard. Geoff watched him warily.

 

“Hello,” the man said. His smile widened at the startled frown that Geoff sent in his direction.

 

Immediately, Geoff was on the defensive. “Who are you?”

 

“Ah, yes. Names should be given upon the first meeting. Common courtesy. Forgive me.” He pursed his lips in an expression of contemplation. “You can call me Burnie.” Burnie held out his hand in a gesture of friendliness. “Tell me, what’s your name?”

 

“Geoffrey.” Hesitantly, Geoff accepted Burnie’s hand and shook it stiffly.

 

“Nice meeting you, Geoffrey.” Burnie grinned again with a light-hearted laugh and returned the handshake with much more enthusiasm.

 

“The pleasure is mine,” Geoff replied haltingly, acting purely on reflex. Geoff pulled his hand out of Burnie’s and suppressed a cough that suddenly attempted to force its way out of his weak lungs. He shuddered with the effort, but gave in to the spasming breaths, groaning in between coughs. As the moment passed slowly, Burnie patiently waited for the attack to subside.

 

“Do you think you’re weak, Geoff?”

 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Geoff hissed, still breathless. But, in truth, the question had stung incredibly.

 

“You’re suffering, aren’t you?” Burnie’s dark eyes gleamed in the white space. Again, Burnie’s question pierced Geoff’s heart. He raised his eyes to meet Burnie’s and found something like compassion staring back at him. Burnie stepped closer to him. “You are suffering so, so much.”

 

“Y-yes,” Geoff felt his composure crumble under the weight of his fragile body and Burnie’s penetrating gaze. He felt an arrow of clarity pierce through him as Burnie saw straight through his shield. The king fell to his knees, weakness stealing his legs from under him. He slumped over, suddenly very tired. A soft smile spread across Burnie’s features.

 

“You’re too weak to be of any use to your friends. You know you’re a burden to them. It must be so hard, but you’re so _weak_.” Burnie’s voice rumbled throughout the unending white, a quiet thunder. His words pulled a whimper from Geoff, who was once again meeting Burnie’s gaze. “I could help you. I can relieve that suffering. All I want to know is: what would you give up to be stronger than everyone else?”

 

“ _Anything_.” Geoff breathed. Never before had he so desperately wanted something. His heart ached. He was so tired. “I’d give anything.”

 

“Of course, Geoff.” Burnie crouched to his level, his smile wider still. “You’re worthy of my strength, are you not?”

 

“ _Please_ ,” Geoff pleaded as another coughing spasm wracked his body once more, this time much worse than the previous. He shook and tried to lock eyes with Burnie one more time. When he did, Burnie’s eyes were glowing purple and a quiet little smile graced his face. He brought his hand to Geoff’s heaving chest as Geoff fought against the spasms as hard as he could.

 

“Rest now.”

 

Gradually, Burnie’s form disintegrated into lengths of purple smoke that reached around Geoff like long arms. The purple irises were the last to dissipate. Transfixed, Geoff lost control of his lungs again and choked. His vision blurred.

 

Geoff succumbed to the violent hacking as the purple smoke slowly infiltrated his nostrils and mouth, leaving him to black out on his own with the low ringing of the whispering voice in his ears.

 

_I will make you strong._

 

* * *

 

As he watched his comrades disappear through the purple vortex one by one, a persistent feeling of apprehension crept upon him. One by one, they disappeared, leaving Ray behind until it was his turn to follow. The eerie noise the portal emitted sent shivers down his spine.

 

"Don't be a pussy," he muttered. "Not like I can die again."

 

With that charming sentiment, Ray steeled himself and stepped through the gateway bridging the outside world and what he could only describe as Hell.

 

Immediately, he was swathed in a violet murk, tumbling ever on through an empty black void. Thick wisps of the mist blanketed him in their haze, restricting his movement and preventing him from fighting the intruder off.

 

The essence began morphing into ambiguous and miscellaneous forms before him. Though he strained to see in the lack of light the vapor provided, he could still make out the shape of a large rose. Its thorns were almost unnoticeable compared to its large, smooth petals, but the continuous swirling and shifting of the smoke soon drew his attention away from the beautiful petals to the thorns extending from the diaphanous stem.

 

The dark purple thorns soon pierced his chest with a steadily increasing force. He felt a sensation akin to a blade nestling deep within him as the vapor sought out the self-inflicted wound and utilized the scarred flesh as an access point. Again, a rush of a thousand hot irons touching his skin slammed into him as a fresh trickle of blood dripped slowly from the reopened wound. His mouth fell open in a silent cry. All at once, he was slammed with a rush of agony as memories flooded his immediate conscious. A knife, its blade caked in a crimson substance he was all too familiar with, laid in his lap. He could feel its phantom weight as it sat there, mocking him in its bloody obstruction. Red painted the floor, the wooden surface a canvas and Ray, the artist, creating a piece of work never to be forgotten.

 

In his head, someone spoke. Static obscured the voice, but he didn’t need to hear to know to whom the voice belonged.

 

The last remaining memories of his final moments were laid out before him, making him bear witness to his selfishness and cowardice. He wanted nothing more than to look away from the scene. The tears staining Ryan’s cheeks hurt him more than the knife ever would, but for the life of him, he could not look away. Even by sheer force of will could he not tear his unwilling gaze from the flashback.

 

He was a marionette, and his sin, the manipulator.

 

_How did it feel to abandon them?_

 

The question rang in his ears and the memory dissipated.

 

_How did it feel?_

 

Before he even thought about answering, another scene shimmered into view around him.

 

His funeral.

 

Forlorn expressions contorted his friend's faces as they stood gathered around his black tomb.

 

_You abandoned them._

 

Yes. He inflicted so much pain upon his friends. He hurt them.

 

The funeral scene had vanished before him, and in its place stood a man bearing the same expression as those watching his burial. Ray jumped back a step out of fear, but something in the stranger’s expression made Ray pity him. He looked miserable, defeated. There was no light in his dull blue eyes, he looked like he hadn’t experienced joy in ages.

 

Ray could empathize.

 

“How did it feel to betray your friends?” Even his voice held nothing, no inflection, no emotion. Its monotonous tone was just as miserable as the man who possessed it. “You’re a coward.”

 

That struck Ray hard, and he found himself reaching for a blade that was no longer there. “I know,” he managed to choke out. “You don’t need to remind me.”

 

The man sighed. “Of course not.” His weary gaze bore straight through Ray, impossible to shake off. “My name’s Matt. What’s yours?”

 

Ray couldn’t suppress a disbelieving snort. “Matt? That’s it? I figured you’d go for something more . . . I dunno, creepy?” He was rambling. Clearly, Ray was uneasy, trying to talk himself out of a hole he only dug deeper. “Mine’s Ray, by the way. But, _Matt?_   Totally not intimidating, dude.”

 

Matt let out an impatient sigh. “Is that really important? I’m here to help you.”

 

“Help me? What exactly do I need help with?” Perhaps feigning ignorance would get this guy off his back. Ray just couldn’t stand looking at him. It made him want to cry.

 

But, Matt wasn’t having it. “You’re miserable,” he stated plainly. “I can feel it. You want it to stop.” He stepped into Ray’s space, towering over him as he spoke. “You just want to escape it.”

 

Ray swallowed hard and averted his gaze elsewhere. He couldn’t look at the lifeless blue eyes boring a hole straight through his skull. They were so empty and unnatural. “I mean — yeah,” he admitted. “But, I don’t know how.”

 

Matt hummed a little in thought. He poked the exact spot where Ray’s heart sat, beating slightly faster than normal. “Then, allow me.”

 

He was plunged into blackness at the same time a staggering surge of regret crashed down on him. He felt so weak. So much anguish and an overwhelming sense of insecurity burned in him, a white hot agony that had him screaming for it to end. The self-loathing clawed at his chest, at his heart, wanting to tear it to shreds. He was afraid. He wanted to run from it and all the failures he committed.

 

 _Run,_ he heard Matt’s voice say. _Run like the coward you are._

  
Ray ran until his legs gave out beneath him, sending him tumbling through the vast nothingness and swallowing him whole.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No, we didn't forget Kerry, I promise :}
> 
> There's quite a bit of music this time, but there's a lot that goes on in this chapter, so hopefully this balances it out.
> 
> [Nocturnus:](http://youtu.be/VzMAwJ6OhI4) Joel and Ryan  
> [Ad Mortem:](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XGQn_mD30W0) Gus and Michael  
> [White Specter:](http://youtu.be/v0y_S4yvnCc) Burnie and Geoff  
> [Fatal Lullaby:](http://youtu.be/itMd1_nxfzc) Matt and Ray
> 
> And, for the founders themselves:  
> [Hual Hadi](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bknc2z27B5E) & [Dust and Shadows](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=allek2lSUlc)


	8. The betrayal of trust carries a heavy taboo

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm pretty certain this is one of the quickest updates we've had so far? I can't remember.
> 
> Anyway, this is the start of Part II! It's time we give a little more focus on what's happening between Jack and Gavin.
> 
> The title of this chapter is a quote said by Aldrich Ames.

**Part II**

_**“There are moments on mountaintops and moments in deep valleys of despair.”** _

_ Rick Warren _

 

Jack hummed to himself as he poured over the document in his hands. With a sigh of frustration, he placed the parchment onto his desk. A headache was beginning to form at the front of his skull. He blinked and removed his glasses, placing the frames beside the paper. He inhaled deeply and slowly as he rubbed his eyelids. Undoubtedly, dark purple circles were beginning to settle under his eyes again. For three days, he had been analyzing and recording responses to hundreds of requests from the nobility that no one had touched since the king had fallen ill in the first place, nearly over a year previous. The aristocracy had been growing restless. It was Jack’s job to fix it. Only today, another question was passed to him regarding a civil dispute within the capital. Naturally, the pile of work only added to his distress.

 

Gavin was still nowhere to be seen. Occasionally, a document signed by his hand would pass by Jack’s desk, and sometimes Jack caught vague rumors of his whereabouts from the servants, but the lack of communication was driving him up the wall. The random documents only increased Jack’s growing confusion. It told him that Gavin was indeed focusing on the kingdom, but his attempts were out of order and sloppy at best, no matter how neat his handwriting seemed. He was trying, at least. But it seemed that Gavin was not going to call for Jack’s aid, and that was the most frustrating part.

 

Jack released a groan and leaned back in his chair. It was at times like this when he had to fight down the urge to escape the confines of the castle and trot down to his old workshop. He felt more useful there, where the heat of the fire and the singing of the bellows kept him company instead of ink stained hands and the smell of parchment and oak. The hammer called to him, and it took all of his self control to ignore that call.

 

Three sharp reports on his bedchamber door broke his reverie. A rough voice called from behind the door. A messenger had come.

 

“The King requests your presence in the throne room, my lord.”

 

“I’ll be right there.” Jack pushed himself away from his desk, a feeling of hope blooming in his chest. Gavin was calling on him. Finally, Jack could approach him without wasting precious time searching for him. A sense of relief washed over his heart, overpowering the twang of anxiety that sprang forth. He quickly placed his quill back into its inkpot and readjusted his tunic. He gathered his cloak from a hook beside the door and pulled it on, exiting the room. He nodded his acknowledgement to the middle-aged man standing outside the door, who bowed as he passed, and proceeded to quickly make his way towards the throne room.

 

It was late afternoon, and the halls were buzzing with activity. Sunlight speared through the windows, a bright golden warmth to color the cold shadows within the castle. The guard was in the middle of changing. Soldiers nodded their acknowledgement of him. Some even bowed, but Jack only held up a hand to stay them. He didn’t need their reverence. The maids bustled about in their duties, sweeping the dust and dirt from the stone floor. They bowed slightly as Jack swept by, and he smiled in return.

 

A courier sped by, a scroll tucked beneath his arm. He paused only to throw himself into a deep bow before scurrying away once more. Jack couldn’t help the smile that spread across his face as he watched the young boy hustle down the hallway, skillfully dodging maids and guards on his way to deliver a message. Once he disappeared around a corner, Jack continued on his own way.

 

He paused at the large doors and inspected the intricate detail carved into the old wood, immortalizing points of the kingdom’s long history. He traced his finger along the branches of a tree in the center of the double doors. He froze. The smile fell from his lips. Apprehension rose unbidden and constricted his throat. He let his hand fall away from the door, and forced a nervous chuckle through the sudden tightness in his chest.

 

“Why am I scared? It’s Gavin. He’s not Ryan. This will go fine. I will answer his questions and then ask him about the scout. That’s all,” he breathed. “Maybe offer to eat with him or go watch the sunset later from the tower like we used to do.”

 

With a final release of pent up air, Jack carefully pushed the doors open. They creaked slightly. The sound echoed throughout the large room. Jack paused for a moment to soak in the sheer emptiness of the room. Only a duo of guards stood on duty in the hallway. Tapestries barely fluttered in the moving air. Sunlight painted the ground in a myriad of colors through the stained glass. Jack noted the empty throne with a spark of dismay, but his anxieties quelled once he caught sight of Gavin standing by the middle window, watching the sky beyond.

 

Jack loudly cleared his throat as he stepped over the threshold. Even from such a distance, he could see the sudden stiffening of Gavin’s backside at the sound.

 

“Gavin? You called,” Jack said. A moment of heavy silence passed before Gavin turned to look at him. Though Jack stood several dozen meters away, Gavin’s pale eyes pierced into him. He couldn’t help but feel a burst of unease, like Gavin was scrutinizing him for something wrong that he had done.

 

“I did.” Gavin spoke softly, and Jack barely managed to catch what he’d said.

 

“That’s what I’m here for, Gav.” Jack smiled, a brief flush of relief eased his tensed shoulders. “The King’s Right Hand is meant to be of some help. What can I do for you, Gavin?” As Jack talked, Gavin meandered over to the throne, somewhat listless. His steps held no purpose. Jack approached slowly and with caution, as if Gavin was a wild animal. A skittish bird, even.

 

Gavin did not speak for what seemed to be a long time. His face was unreadable and cold, like that of a statue. His body was stiff, and he seemed as if he’d been carved out of jade. Jack suppressed a shiver of unease. Gavin refused to face him. The young man pulled his arms around himself in a tight hug. Jack frowned. Gavin shuddered visibly. The jade cracked, and spiderwebs appeared across Gavin’s facade. Jack’s heart clenched at the sight.

 

“Gavin,” Jack stepped closer, hand reached outward in a gesture of comfort and worry. “Are you alright?”

 

“Don’t come near me! I’m fine.” Gavin immediately snapped, turning his back and letting his hands drop to his sides. His hands curled into fists of defiance. “I need you to appoint a new captain of the guard officially. Just find a new captain, Jack.”

 

Jack paused and lowered his hand reluctantly. A feeling of worry flooded him. Gavin was suffering right before his eyes, and yet he couldn’t approach. Geoff’s face blinked into his head, and the late king’s voice resounded in his head. Jack felt his throat close despite his efforts to remain composed.

 

“I’m fine,” Gavin breathed. “I’m fine.” He repeated the mantra as if it alone would even his breathing again. Jack waited until Gavin fell silent again.

 

“Before I leave, Gavin, I need to ask you something. Regarding an order of yours.” Jack said. Gavin froze. His breath hitched in his chest. Jack patiently waited until Gavin pivoted to face him. The piercing gaze that met his eyes prompted him to straighten his spine. Gavin was once more like a statue of jade, the spiderwebs dissolved, and Gavin’s face was as stern as stone. It broke Jack’s heart to see Gavin trying to gather himself so firmly, but he did not let it show.

 

“I need to ask you about the scout you sent to the north.” Jack spoke slowly. He chased the sudden burst of nerves away. He reminded himself that Gavin was not Ryan and would not send someone on such an errand without proper reasoning. “You didn’t consult me on that.”

 

Gavin didn’t speak for several long moments, and Jack felt the hair on the nape of his neck rising. Something in Jack’s subconsciousness blared warning signals. Gavin’s pale eyes watched him with with unnervingly calm calculation.

 

“You needn’t know about that.” Gavin’s voice was too calm. His lack of urgency sparked an ember of anger within Jack.

 

“Yes, I need to know about it!” Jack huffed in exasperation, throwing his hands into the air briefly. “A King’s Hand is _supposed_ to know about important things like that. My position would have no meaning if that weren’t the case, Gavin.”

 

“ _You needn’t know about it,_ ” Gavin hissed. And instantly, Jack understood that he was standing on a very thin line.

 

“Gavin, you do realize that if the Northern Kingdom heard about this, they’d take it as a declaration of _war._ ” Jack struggled to control the tone of his voice. He must not be angry. He couldn’t let his frustration rule. It would mean disaster. “I wish you had talked with me first.”

 

“ _You needn’t think about it, Jack._ ” Gavin squared his shoulders, and his piercing green eyes glared straight through Jack.

 

“Gavin,” Jack started, and suddenly he couldn’t stop himself from spilling forth the words that had been burning on his tongue. “I’m not Geoff. I will _never be_ Geoff. But I am your Right Hand. I can’t possibly fit the Geoff-sized hole in you, but _let me try,_ goddamnit! Let me help you for once!”

 

Gavin’s cold face scrunched into a fierce scowl, and the warning bells in Jack’s head were screaming. “Are you questioning my decision, Jack?”

 

“Yes, I am! You might be starting a _war_ here. I could’ve told you what to do about it. You don’t understand how the North functions. They want a war, Gavin, and they’ll get one if you keep ignoring me and my help. I’m here to help you. Geoff _never_ wanted that!” Jack knew instantly he’d crossed the line. Celadon eyes narrowed and burned into him.

 

“But I’m _not_ Geoff,” Gavin growled. “Leave. Now.”

 

Jack froze. A sense of deja-vu creeped down his spine, and his heart dropped to his stomach.

 

_No._

 

“I don’t need you anymore. Go. _Get out._ ” Gavin’s hands were white with tension. Jack’s face was white with apprehension.

 

_Not again._

 

“ _Leave_ before I call the guards, Jack.”

 

Jack forced himself to breathe deeply.

 

_Please, not again._

 

“ _Don’t_ make me repeat myself.” Venom seared the air like fire. Gavin’s fists were shaking violently. “Go! Get out of here!” Gavin shouted, fury coloring his expression red. His chest was heaving, and his eyes were dark. If there had been something there to throw, he would have most definitely thrown it in Jack’s direction. Jade turned to ebony.

 

“Your Majesty, if you’d excuse me.” Jack lowered his head. He himself was shaking. Not in fear, but in anguish. He’d ruined it. The one chance he’d had to talk with Gavin and he’d ruined it. He felt his breath hitch in his throat. With a deadly silence hanging over his head, Jack turned and obeyed, leaving Gavin to his frustration and solitude. As he closed the massive door behind him, Gavin’s scream of frustration followed.

 

Once the doors creaked shut behind him, Jack sagged against them, bringing his shivering hands to his face. He forced a long and slow breath and felt the rise of defeat and unease within his heart. He fought back the sobs that threatened to take him. Not here. Not now. Not with the surprised and confused gazes of the guards and servants locked on him. With great effort, he straightened himself and forced a small smile. Faces he had known for the past eighteen years did not look convinced in the slightest, but no one said a thing and resumed their daily tasks. Jack couldn’t determine if he was relieved or not for that.

  
He readjusted his cloak and headed back towards his room to gather the materials he would need to fulfill Gavin’s request. If he had messed up this encounter, then all Jack could do was obey his king’s orders. Perhaps, he couldn’t help but think, that was all he was good for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can't Jack ever catch a break?
> 
> Music:
> 
> Character song — [Fare Thee Well:](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Fz_O-TViqwc) Jack  
> Team song — [Lunara:](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9_WeI3AzIT4) Team Trial&Error


	9. Every journey starts with fear

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, everyone! From the looks of things, we're going to start uploading chapters as we have them written, so updates won't be as consistent. That being said, it's time to see how the rest of the gang is doing.
> 
> The title is a quote from Jake Gyllenhaal.
> 
> NOTE: This was written before Kdin expressed that she preferred female pronouns. We have since gone back and fixed necessary pronouns !

Kerry groaned. A few moments passed as he tried to gather his senses. Deep rich smells filtered through his nose, and he could still hear the vaguely menacing gurgle of the portal not too far away. Something tickled the shell of his ear as he shifted. A blackish haze hung over his eyes. As confusion flitted about his brain, Kerry furiously blinked the haze away. A burst of color blinded him. He pushed himself up to a sitting position. Lush greenery surrounded him. He could pick out giant trees with full foliage and dark bark. A few flowers in full bloom dotted the clearing in splashes of red and yellow and blue. Various stone pillars stood erect in the ground, suffocated by ivy. The ruins surrounding the giant portal looked beyond ancient. Yellowed marble crumbled and ivory stone was being consumed by plant life. Kerry scanned the clearing. Besides the forest, there was little else around. No signs of life beyond plants. No signs of civilization at all. He felt his hair stand on end when a groan sounded, but calmed when he saw the source.

 

Ryan shifted a few feet to his left, gripping the grass with both hands. The knight rose slowly, bringing a hand to rub his eyes. Ryan surveyed his surroundings.

 

“You alright?” Kerry asked. Kerry found himself facing bleary blue eyes full of momentary confusion.

 

“Yeah,” Ryan grunted, though he looked thoroughly disoriented.

 

“Where are we?” Kerry jumped as Geoff’s voice called. He turned to see the king on his hands and knees.

 

“I don’t know,” Kerry said, grunting as he got to his feet. He brushed the dirt from his tunic. He checked himself over. No bruises or scratches or blood or any sign showing that he was anything but healthy. He breathed a sigh of relief and immediately moved to check on Ryan, who was still gazing around with glazed eyes.

 

“We’re back, aren’t we?” Michael said gruffly. He pushed himself to his feet and brushed off the stray dirt from his tunic.

 

“I think so,” Kerry said while helping Ryan to his feet. Out of the five, Ryan seemed the most confused. His gaze swept the clearing, but Kerry could see that his eyes weren’t focusing. He laid a hand on Ryan’s shoulders. The knight jumped, finally snapping back from his thoughts to reality. Kerry maintained eye contact and a silent question passed between the two. Once he was certain that Ryan was alright, Kerry moved to help Ray, who was sprawled out on the grass immediately in front of the growling portal, to his feet.

 

“I can see that, but _where_ are we?” Geoff huffed, finally standing. He was slightly wobbly on his feet, but he regained his balance after a moment of dismay. “What time is it?”

 

“Some time after noon, I think.” Kerry shielded his eyes as he craned his neck to pinpoint the position of the sun. “Or before. Sometime around noon?”

 

“Oh. Great.” Michael muttered. “Maybe we should stay here so we can get our bearings.”

 

“Sounds like a good idea.” Kerry gave one last onceover of the clearing, eyeing the edge of the forest suspiciously. “We should probably check the perimeter first and find some food while we’re at it.”

 

“I can forage for food,” Michael volunteered. “I’m the most skilled in survival among us.”

 

“That’s true, isn’t it? Didn’t you live in the north before coming to Achievement City?” Geoff grinned.

 

“Yep! Up towards the northern forests. Food is scarce around there, especially when you live in a tiny village.” Michael returned his smile. The warrior stretched . He gave a satisfied grunt when his spine made a loud popping noise, which caused Geoff to flinch. “Who’s hungry?”

 

“We’re in the north,” Ray said, completely ignoring Michael’s question. He was standing towards the edge of the clearing.

 

“What makes you say that?” Kerry asked.

 

“I’m from the south. I’ve seen the terrain there. It’s mostly plains and hills. The only place I know of that has such a thick forest is the border between the Ramsey kingdom and the north. That’s if we’re still on the same continent, of course.” Ray scrutinized the darkness of the forest. The trees were tall and thick. Grass and ferns reached up from the ground, clawing the wide trunks. Flowers peered out of the darkness, their faces popping bright colors amid the shadows.

 

Michael shrugged, turning to enter the shadows. “If anyone wants to come along, they better be able to keep up.”

 

With that, he disappeared. Kerry frowned.

 

“Pompous bastard,” Kerry muttered under his breath. He shook his head and turned in the opposite direction. “I’ll see about some shelter. Ryan, would you help me with that?”

 

Ryan started out of his reverie once more. His hand flew to his chest and his gaze snapped to Kerry’s inquisitive face. “ _God_ , Kerry… You startled me!”

 

“Well, then pay attention to your surroundings more.” Kerry snorted. “You gonna help, or what?”

 

“Y-yeah,” Ryan stuttered. He pushed himself to his feet and brushed the loose dirt off of his tunic.

 

“I can build a fire for us. Ray, could you check the perimeter?” Geoff turned to the other knight, who was still watching the forest. “Come back as soon as you’re sure it’s clear.”

 

He nodded slowly and melted into the darkness beyond the treeline. Geoff watched him go, a tinge of worry sour in his mouth.

 

* * *

 

Ray picked his way through the woods, carefully stepping over snaking roots and tangled bushes. He wrapped the end of his beloved red cloak around his left arm to keep it from snagging on the plant life. Twigs and branches groaned under his feet, and he grimaced at the sounds of snapping twigs and crackling pine cones. As he traversed the wood, Ray scanned the area, watching for any sign of a threat.

 

After several long moments, Ray found his mind wandering from his assigned task. He no longer was focused on eliminating any dangers. His mind locked onto the world around him and the stark reality that he was really alive. He brushed his hand over the rough bark on an enormous tree, reveling in the feeling of life. He was breathing crisp air again. He was _alive_ again.

 

He stopped dead. His heart thumped against his chest, a regular, strong beat beating fast.

 

He felt sick.

 

“So you’re back, aren’t you?” a familiar whisper hissed.

 

Ray whipped around, hand immediately on the hilt of his rapier. His eyes darted from tree to tree, desperately trying to find the source of the voice.

 

“Forgotten me already?” The voice seemed to echo throughout the forest, void of emotion despite the words it spoke. “I’m disappointed. You seemed to me to have a fairly good memory.”

 

“Matt?” Ray called out tentatively. A wisp of violet fog was conjured out of thin air, swirling in the forms of a thousand voices. Suddenly, the man materialized in front of him. The same empty eyes stared straight through him, and Ray fought the chill that slipped down his spine at the sight of those glowing purple irises.

 

“Yes, that’s my name.” Matt sighed heavily.

 

Ray didn’t remove his hand from the rapier. He stepped back. “What do you want with me?”

 

“To talk.” Matt stepped forward, closing the distance between them. “My, the overworld is _mighty_ beautiful.”

 

“Did you follow me?”

 

“ _Follow_ you?” Matt cracked something that could only be described as a smile. The expression didn’t seem to fit the man’s face. “How naive. _You’re_ the one who brought me with you. Thanks to you, I get to see what it’s like in the light.”

 

“You—” Ray felt his heart pause for a second. Fear seized his heart. Instinctively, he drew the rapier, but stopped with an inch of gleaming metal peeking out of the scabbard. “What are _you?_ ”

 

Matt didn’t immediately reply, but continued to smile. Matt turned his attention to a flower by his foot. He squatted, bringing a hand to cup the head of the flower. The white petals shivered at his touch.

 

“Maybe the proper question is,” Matt gripped the flower in his fist, and the flower wilted, turning a dark violet in death. “What are you?”

 

Ray let go of the hilt and the rapier fell back into its scabbard. He took a shaky step back, and tripped over a protruding root. He stumbled. Matt’s violet eyes were like a dagger straight into Ray’s chest. He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t breathe.

 

Matt smiled at him.

 

He couldn’t _breathe_.

 

Ray answered the whispers in his mind, and he ran, tripping over roots and leaving trampled flowers in his wake. His breath came ragged and sparse.

 

“You can’t get rid of me, Ray.” Matt materialized before him, causing him to skid to a halt, wide-eyed. Ray’s heart dropped a thousand feet, and his stomach fell with it.

 

“No,” he whispered. He wanted to vomit. “No, no, no. Go away. Get away from me.”

 

“You accepted me already. I’m a _part_ of you now,” Matt’s form dissipated, but his voice lingered. “Run if you’d like. You won’t escape your fate. But, run like the coward you are.”

 

Ray felt his legs collapse beneath him. He curled into a ball and clasped his hands over his ears, but the words echoed in his head.

 

_Take me somewhere else._

 

He couldn’t stop the hot tears streaming down his face.

 

_I don’t want to be here._

 

He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t _breathe_.

 

_Please!_

 

A blinding blue light filled his eyelids, and a phantom blade speared him through the heart. Ray cried out in pain.

 

* * *

 

Michael crouched behind the thick trunk of a tree, balancing on his toes as he squatted on a protruding root. His brown eyes scanned the forest floor, searching for any signs of prey. He stiffened as a blur of ash brown fur zipped past him.

 

A rabbit sat on its haunches, nearly a meter from Michael’s position. It hopped up to a patch of grass and began to nibble. Michael stepped down from the root and cautiously approached. He passed his sword from one hand to another noiselessly. His arm held out to the side. Michael was a cat, coiled, ready to pounce on his prey.

 

The unsuspecting rabbit continued its snacking, squeaking occasionally in contentment. Michael fought a wave of pity at the sight of the creature’s ease. Silently, he prepared to lash out at the rabbit.

 

A twig snapped loudly under his boot, and both Michael and the rabbit froze. Its ears were twitching erratically, trying to find the source of the threatening sound. Michael scowled. A tense moment passed, and evidently, the rabbit sensed the impending doom and dashed into the underbrush.

 

“Damn it!” Michael hissed. He thrust his sword into the loam in a burst of frustration and stood. He craned his neck to try to find a hint of clear sunlight to determine the time. It had been a long while since he’d left the ruins behind, about two or three hours, and all he had to show for it was two small birds he’d knocked out of the branches with a makeshift sling and stones made out of a ripped portion of his tunic, one unlucky squirrel, and a handful of berries he’d deemed edible. He snatched his sword from the ground and sheathed it, turning to collect the impromptu bag he’d made out of his cloak, which held the meagre spoils of his hunt.

 

He gathered the ends of his cloak and threw the sack over his shoulder. He brought his left hand to his forehead and wiped away the sweat. He suppressed a chill. The sun must have left the center of the sky and was moving towards the west. If evening was approaching, Michael mused, he’d have to return with his catch, no matter how small. So he turned on his heel and followed the scratches he’d made on the trees back to the camp.

 

* * *

 

Ray refused to open his eyes. The light had died down almost as quickly as it had appeared, but he could still feel the phantom blade embedded in his heart. He clenched his hands into his hair, still curled in on himself. He no longer could hear Matt’s whispering taunts, and yet he still refused to open his eyes. His breathing had calmed slightly, but his heart rammed against his ribcage.

 

“Hello?”

 

Ray flinched as a voice reached his ears, muffled slightly by his hands. The voice was close. Very close. Uncomfortably close.

 

“Are you alright, little man?” The voice sounded amused and somewhat surprised. Ray didn’t recognize it.

 

Out of a morbidly fierce curiosity, Ray finally cracked open his eyes and found himself staring into the gray eyes of a figure standing over him. The stranger was donned in a gray shirt that matched their eyes and a weird cloak that looked like it might have been made out of reptilian skin. The dim light gleamed on the scales just as it gleamed in the stranger's eyes.

 

The curious figure had her hands clasped behind her back. A pair of spectacles were perched on her nose, and her head was covered in curly brown hair. The figure grinned widely when she locked eyes with Ray.

 

“Well! Welcome back to the land of the living.”

 

The irony was not lost on Ray as he pushed himself to his feet. He wasn’t much taller than the newcomer, he noted. Ray frowned, somewhat disconcerted at the man’s unexpected appearance.

 

“Are you lost, little man?”

 

“No.” Ray’s immediate response gained a click of the stranger’s tongue.

 

“Oh, I’m smarter than that.” The woman shook her head. “Don’t get defensive. You’ve lost your way haven’t you?”

 

Ray took a look around. He didn’t recognize his surroundings, and immediately, he felt a sting of fear. The trees were much taller and darker. Giant toadstools towered alongside the trees, unnaturally bright red and ivory. The grass nearly came up to his knees. Even in his dash for safety, Ray hadn’t seen such plant life.

 

A distorted gurgle caught Ray’s attention. Instinctively, he turned his gaze towards the source. A creature seemingly made of pure shadow was glaring at him with glowing violet eyes from behind a tree. It was giant. It was a gangly creature, at least twice as tall as Ray with eerily long arms and legs. A hand immediately fell in front of his eyes, blocking his view.

 

“Ah, you shouldn’t look it in the eye. The last person to do that died a very uncomfortable death.” The woman only removed her hand once Ray turned away.

 

Silently, Ray mused that by the looks of the creature, uncomfortable must have been an understatement. He watched as the stranger turned to walk away, eyeing her strange cloak. It split down the back at the high collar, like a pair of wings. It reminded him of the giant winged lizards in fairy tales of knights fighting dragons.

 

“Come along, little man.” The woman’s voice pulled Ray from his thoughts. “It’s dangerous out here with them.”

 

Just as he spoke, the unsettling gurgling started again, and Ray could see another shadowy figure materialize from the shadows from the corner of his eye. Without further ado, Ray hurried to follow the woman.

 

“My name is Kdin.” The woman threw a grin over her shoulder. “It’s been so long since I’ve had company.”

 

As Kdin talked, Ray was surveying the dark forest. Before he’d realized it, they were standing in a wide clearing. He stopped dead in his tracks.

 

A giant building sat in the center of the clearing, gleaming black amid the dark green leaves high in the sky. Ray felt so small in the castle spires’ shadows. The entire structure was made of a black stone. The entrance was wide and tall. Kdin was not standing, but _floating_ inches above the ground by the door. Various colored particles flickered in and out of existence by the woman’s boots.

 

Ray must have been staring, because Kdin’s smile widened.

 

“Come on in, little man.” She threw her arms wide, and the majestic doors began creaking open. Ray watched in awe and found himself following Kdin into a massive room.

 

“I have a name, you know.” Ray said.

 

“Oh, pardon me. Bad manners.” Kdin drifted along, matching Ray’s pace as he inspected what could only be called a throne room. A long, deep violet carpet lined with bright gold stretched the entire length of the room. Every few feet, there were a pair of torches mounted on ornate poles on either side of the carpet. The room itself seemed to be made out of the same black glossy stone as the outside was. High stained glass windows filled the walls, depicting various scenes that Ray could not decipher. A gold chandelier hung from the ceiling, lighting the room with bright floating lights that shed a teal tinge over everything in the room. The throne at the far end was a modest one with velvet cushions with gold tassels and a high back.

 

Kdin suddenly winked out of existence, leaving a puff of teal and purple particles, only to reappear in front of the throne. She swiveled herself around to face Ray, who was now several meters from the throne and gawking. Kdin crossed her legs and leaned back, as if she were actually sitting on the throne, but she was still several inches above the surface. She readjusted her glasses on the bridge of her nose before addressing Ray again.

 

“What might your name be, little man?”

 

“Ray.”

 

“You must be a knight.” Kdin was still smiling. “You carry yourself like you’re of some importance at least.”

 

“The knight of the Red Rose.” Ray straightened his spine and squared his shoulders, resting the heel of his hand on the pommel of his rapier. Kdin leaned forward, a curious look on her face.

 

“I haven’t seen a knight in a long time. Not since the great queen died” She scratched his chin. “Tell me, are you a knight of King Arild?”

 

“I’m afraid I don’t follow.” Ray swallowed hard.

 

“Oh,” Kdin frowned. “Is he no longer the king of the Ramsey Kingdom? I could have sworn he was.”

 

Ray felt his breath stop momentarily.

 

“Oh dear, I must have lost track of the time up here.” Kdin unfolded her legs and laughed awkwardly. “I might have just dated myself a teeny tiny bit there.”

 

“I’m sorry?” Ray took a step back.

 

“Oh my,” Kdin sighed. She sounded vaguely remorseful. “The last time I ran across a knight was a long time ago, back when the King’s wife, Ragnild, had died and he’d sent knights on silly errands to find the Nether portal. Unfortunately, only one had managed to get close. What a fool, Arild was.”

 

“He didn’t find it?” Ray asked out of curiosity.

 

“Oh no,” Kdin replied. “Not at all. He died to one of those pesky Endermen you saw outside. Lost a staring contest, you see.” Kdin chuckled, apparently amused at her own joke.

 

“Yeah, I see.” Ray shuffled uncomfortably.

 

“You’re bleeding.”

 

“What?”

 

“You’re bleeding. I smell blood.” Kdin said nonchalantly. “Probably your heart is bleeding.”

 

Ray immediately felt his chest. A warm wetness had formed over his heart.

 

“Say, Ray,” Kdin materialized in front of the knight. “Did you actually manage to kill one of my underlings?”

 

“Excuse me?” Ray took yet another step back, unnerved by the sudden closeness.

 

“I didn’t tell you, but I happen to be Enderlord around here,” Kdin sneered. Anger grew in her voice, and Ray shrank back, still pressing his chest with his hand to stop the minor bleeding. “And, the only reason your heart would be bleeding is you teleported.”

 

“I can’t imagine what you’re talking about!” Indignance stole away any fear Ray might have had the moment prior. “If you’re saying I killed one of those _things_ out there, I’ll have you know that I have never seen one of those Endermen in all my fucking _life,_  so fuck off!”

 

Kdin froze, frowned, and floated back towards her throne, her winged cloak flapping around her body as she moved. She contemplated Ray’s words, pacing back and forth in front of the throne, still hovering above the ground.

 

“Look, _Kdin_ ,” Ray said cautiously, unsure of how to approach the eerie woman lest he ignited her fury again. “I have no fucking clue where I am, and while it was nice meeting you, I need to get back to my friends.”

 

“Oh!” Kdin barked, a happy gleam in her eye. She winked out of existence and reappeared by Ray’s side again, floating horizontal this time on her stomach. She held her head with both hands, as if she were lying on the ground instead of hovering eye-level with Ray. “It all makes sense now!”

 

“I—”

 

“I have _never_ seen a dead man walking before!” Kdin interrupted him, curious excitement buzzing around her like the odd particles around her body. “Fascinating!”

 

Ray stiffened for a moment as Kdin studied him.

 

“Yes it does make sense now! Oh, this is really interesting.” Kdin grinned, happy as a clam. “You want to know how to get back to your friends, yes?”

 

“Well, yes, but what do you mean—?” Ray stammered.

 

“All you have to do is wish yourself there, andthere you’ll be!” Kdin rolled over and her cloak went perpendicular to her horizontal position. Evidently, the cloak still followed the rules of gravity, while the rest of her seemed to do whatever she wanted. “It’s just that easy. It’s fun too.”

 

“I just wish myself there?”

 

“Yep! Try it!” Kdin stretched out her arms and reoriented herself to be right side up. “Oh, this is going to be fun! You’re an interesting little man.”

 

“O—okay then.” Ray squeezed his eyes shut and began an internal mantra of “take me back”.

 

Just when he was beginning to doubt the credibility of Kdin’s instructions, the same bright light flooded his senses, and the phantom blade once again returned.

 

When he opened his eyes again, he was no longer in the presence of the Enderlord in his black castle, but once again standing on the outskirts of a small clearing. In the twilight light, Ray could make out a small campfire and four distinct figures gathered around it. He’d made it back.

 

“Ray!” Michael stood up from his spot by the fire and called out to him. “Thank fuck! I was about to go look for your sorry ass!”

 

“Michael! Don’t shout, there might be creatures nearby, you numbskull,” Geoff hissed.

 

Michael ignored the older man. “Where the fuck have you been?”

 

“S—scouting,” Ray couldn’t stop the lie from tumbling out of his mouth. He swallowed hard as he approached the fire. “We’re safe.”

 

“Good, because I saved some bird for you. And two berries.” Michael smiled at him. “They’re sour though, but don’t complain.”

 

Ray sat down next to Geoff, and a feeling of guilt creeped into his bleeding heart.

 

“ _What a liar you are,_ ” Matt’s voice whispered into Ray’s mind. “ _Coward_.”

  
Ray couldn’t help but feel like he was right.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Looks like the cast of characters has expanded a bit! And, how do you feel about Ray's demonic superpower? Surely teleporting at the cost of a little scratch isn't _too_ bad.
> 
> We'll see the others soon enough! I promise.
> 
> Music:
> 
> Character song(s) — [Twisted:](http://youtu.be/FcEizDACxNk) Kdin  
>                             — [Blackened Soul:](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-laiCZ2fr14) Ray


	10. Hold fast to dreams

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello yes hi we're not dead. We've just been incredibly busy. I hope you guys are still interested in this monstrosity. Either way, please enjoy this action-filled chapter!
> 
> The chapter title is a quote by Langston Hughes.

Dawn was still a long way off, the very first rays of morning light had yet to break the horizon beyond the trees, when a sharp noise woke him, like a dozen branches breaking all at one. Geoff blinked his eyes open, bringing up a hand to wipe the bleariness from his sleepy eyes. He rose slowly and cautiously, trying not to wake the others.

 

Michael was standing watch. The warrior was tense and had his hand on the hilt of his broadsword. A bad sign.

 

Geoff clambered to his feet, and Michael glanced over in his direction briefly once he’d noticed Geoff’s presence. Michael was scanning the forest edge intently.

 

“Wait.” Michael held up a hand,and Geoff halted. “Something’s there.”

 

As moments ticked by agonizingly slow, Geoff and Michael remained frozen in place. Geoff felt an unnatural chill creeping throughout his entire body, and at that moment, he spotted several glowing clusters of red dots at the edge of the clearing just beyond the threshold into darkness. They blinked.

 

“Michael,” Geoff whispered in a warning tone.

 

“I see them.” Michael slowly unsheathed his sword, positioning himself into a battle-stance. “Stay back, Geoff.”

 

A dozen eyes blinked into existence, some clusters in the trees while others on the ground. Geoff extended his leg to nudge Ryan awake, who was lying a little ways to his left. The knight shifted and stretched.

 

“Wha—?” Ryan groaned, but Geoff immediately shushed him. Once his eyes stopped watering with exhaustion, Ryan noted the look of distress all over Geoff’s face and immediately snapped completely awake. He scrambled for his sword.

 

Just as he rose to his feet, a single arrow sliced through the sky and landed with a heavy thunk. Ray jerked awake, startled by the loud noise. He sprung upright to find the arrow, deep in the ground, only a few centimeters from where his arm had been in his sleep.

 

“Holy—” Ray hopped to his feet, majorly alarmed and slightly confused. At Ray’s exclamation, Kerry himself rose, bleary eyed and just as disoriented.

 

“Shush!” Geoff hissed. “Grab your weapons.”

 

“We have company,” Michael said. “Prepare to fight.”

 

Kerry barely had time to unsheathe his sword when a mob of giant black forms skittered out of the darkness. He grunted as one slammed into his side. The creature evaded the swipe of his sword, its hairy legs clamboring to perch on a broken pillar. Horror flooded Kerry’s body once he finally saw the thing.

 

Giant spiders, about half his height and twice as wide as he was tall, surrounded the campsite. Thick hairs protruded from the beasts. Glistening mandibles opened and closed in violent hisses. Red glowing eyes glared into him, and the hair on his neck lifted in fear. Kerry swallowed hard and gripped the hilt of his sword tight, steeling himself against the wild terror that seethed in his furiously beating heart.

 

Ray unsheathed his rapier and planted his feet, readying himself for the battle ahead. He scrambled backwards as a spider launched itself at his face, its powerful muscles tensing before it sprung forward. Ray let loose a startled yell and quickly brought his rapier up to defend his face. He slid backwards as the spider’s forward momentum crashed into him. He stared wide-eyed as the creature’s jaws clamped around the blade with violent fury. With a wild yell, Ray shoved it back, and it let go of his sword.

 

“Ray!” Ryan cried in alarm, brandishing his own weapon.

 

“Ryan! To your left!” Geoff called warningly.

 

The knight swung around to find himself face to face with a bony grin. Ryan jumped to his side, barely dodging the full impact of an arrow that flew out of the creature’s bow. Ryan grimaced as the sharp tip grazed his shoulder, easily tearing the fabric of his cloak and tunic. The morning light glinted off the skeleton’s bones. A shiver raced down Ryan’s spine at the sight. The thing creaked as it reached back to the old and decaying quiver strapped to its back. It fitted the arrow expertly back into the bowstring and aimed for Ryan’s head. Against his better judgment, Ryan froze.

 

Just as the creature went to release the arrow, a foot collided with its skull, knocking it clean off. The skeleton remained standing for a moment before it fell to pieces. Ryan stumbled backwards. In front of him stood a woman. Her fiery red hair framed her face and fierce eyes bore into Ryan’s, analyzing him.

 

“Duck,” she said simply.

 

Immediately, Ryan flew to the ground just as the woman drew her sword and swung. The blade collided with flesh, and a spider released a pained hiss. The woman held out a hand to Ryan. He took her offer, and she yanked him to his feet.

 

“Stay out of my way, and you might keep your head.”

 

Before Ryan had a chance to retaliate, the woman was back into the fray of the battle, taking down giant spiders and ghastly skeleton archers with practiced ease. Her feriosity reminded him of Michael, who, without any questions, took to her backside, and the two were fighting back to back like old partners. Ryan heaved a shaky sigh and readjusted his grip on his sword. He turned to find Ray’s desperate cry for help.

 

Ray was struggling. He had his rapier in his hand, but a dozen or so monsters were closing in around him. The knight was pinned against a tree. Ryan dashed forward with a cry, crashing through two skeletons and proceeding to chop through the ranks of monsters. In only a few moments, Ryan was by Ray’s side, sword brandished.

 

“Thanks.” Ray braced himself to block a lunging creature. He grit his teeth as the impact threw him against the tree.

 

“Don’t mention it,” Ryan struck down a sickly looking creature. His shoulder stung. Badly. He stuck a spider with his blade and revelled in the short satisfaction that arose in the creature’s final hiss.

 

As the swarm of creatures began to thin, Ryan allowed himself a moment to breathe. They seemed to be fairing well, even more so with the aid of the female warrior. She and Michael were slowly working their way towards Ray and himself. And Kerry, who had been separated from him early on, was fighting through the mob to rejoin them.

 

Impaling his blade in a decaying monster’s chest, Ryan took one more glance around them before his breath caught in his throat.

 

“ _ Where’s Geoff? _ ”

 

———

Solid ground came rushing up to meet him as he fell. The grass offered no support to cushion his descent. A monster's blow stole the breath from his lungs, and he was left momentarily paralyzed. From the corner of his eye, Geoff could see the tip of the arrow aimed at his head. Defending himself wasn't an option, as regaining his breath proved more difficult than he'd anticipated. Bony fingers drew back on the bow. The rattling of the monster's skeleton form sent chills down Geoff's spine. He was cornered. 

 

He was defenseless.

 

He reacted on pure instinct. He scrambled away from the archer poised to kill him, hands pulling his weight frantically backwards. A voice spoke in his ear above the roar of his blood deafening him. It was a woman's voice. Her gentle tone relieved the fear bubbling in his gut.

 

_ "To your left." _

 

Without hesitating, Geoff rolled to his left just as the arrow was fired at him. The realization of how close he was to death prompted a swift return of his fear, striking deep within him and sending a chill down his spine.

 

_ "Farther." _

 

Again, the heavenly voice spoke. Geoff glanced wildly around and noticed a long ornate staff lying just within his reach. A soft white glow emanating from the sleek wood gave it an almost ethereal feel. For a moment, Geoff was hesitant to take it. The question of whether the object would crumble in his grasp because he was "unworthy" to possess it lingered in his mind, chased away only by the return of that beloved voice.

 

_ "Hurry." _

 

He didn't waste a second.

 

Renewed strength surged through him. He gripped the staff tightly and bore it with an air of confidence. Just as Geoff feared the staff was almost too heavy for him to wield, he felt a vibration rumble from within the object. Its weight changed, shifting and adapting to him. He gawked at the otherworldly weapon in his hands.

 

_ "Don't let go." _

 

Confusion flooded him instantly. The skeletal figure approached him at the same moment a searing pain burned his hands. Against his body's instinct to release it, Geoff only gripped it harder, letting slip a shout of protest. Someone called his name, but the voice was drowned out by the repetitive mantra of  _ don't let go _ echoing in his head.

 

A cold sense of relief rushed over him and the pain faded. Adrenaline coursed through his body as he struck an arrow down out of the air, in awe of his new reflexes. The strength he was gifted supplied him with energy he hadn't felt in what seemed like years. His next swing brought down another arrow, and his third ripped through the skeletal figure. Bones scattered at his feet. They began to smolder in the early rays of morning, small puffs of smoke soon morphing into flames, charring the surface until only ash remained.

 

The sounds of distant conflict had all but ceased. The only sound that met Geoff's ears was his own ragged breathing. Even the woman's voice, so lovely yet simultaneously unreal, was gone. He was swathed in abrupt silence. His strength ebbed as his adrenaline faded, leaving him an exhausted mess gripping the staff in trembling hands.

 

He turned, intending to join his companions and explain his situation, when a woman appeared to him. She was celestial, practically glowing as Geoff met her gaze. Her eyes sucked him in and drowned him in their beauty. She had yet to speak, but Geoff knew her voice already. Gentle, kind, and melodious in a way Geoff couldn't even fathom until then. Not until she revealed herself did he finally see how stunning the muse was.

 

She smiled, and Geoff's heart soared.

  
Then, she was gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We will be adding the chapter songs later, since we don't have them particularly lined up for this right now, haha;;;;
> 
> ANYWAYS! We're still chugging along.
> 
> Songs for this chapter are:  
> [Alpha](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VCtUlhfMK4k) — Geoff  
> [Remembrance](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=D10ahyZzt7o) — Geoff's mystery woman


	11. Only those who will risk going too far can possibly find out how far one can go

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! We're still not dead! :D  
> Have some Jack!
> 
> The chapter title is a quote by T.S. Elliot.

Jack did not sleep well that night. He tossed and turned so frequently that he eventually got up to light a candle instead. It took a few strikes of the flint to set the candle on his desk to flame. He nursed the flame into life and gently brought it over to the other candles on the desk. He lit them one by one before he sat back and watched the orange glow with tired eyes. He stared, mesmerized by the organic shadows the candles cast flickering across the wall. It proved to be a good distraction.  A long while passed like that in complete silence beyond the gentle crackling of the candle flames.

 

Jack heaved a sigh and rubbed his temples. After his failed attempt to communicate with Gavin, Jack had gone immediately to follow Gavin’s orders. As frustrated and heartbroken as he was over Gavin’s rejection of his help, he could not deny that the guard needed a captain, desperately. He’d found two potential candidates for the position, a pair of guards by the names of Matt and Jeremy. Both seemed up for the job, which, unfortunately, actually made Jack’s job even more difficult. In a pile on his desk among the other obscene piles were papers detailing the guards’ previous experiences and training. He had yet to look them over. Now seemed to be the best time to him, anyways. He wasn’t going to be sleeping anytime soon.

 

Gavin’s hardened eyes stared him down every time Jack closed his. Green fire filled his head, and Jack couldn’t help but feel ultimately ill every time he dwelled on the day’s events. His heart screamed every time he remembered Gavin’s own frustrated scream as he’d left the room. His mind ranted  _ Ryan Ryan Ryan _ . Dread filled his lungs and choked him.

 

Gavin had placed him in an overwhelmingly awkward position. Gavin refused to talk with him about important matters, and Jack couldn’t conjure up exactly  _ why  _ the young king would refuse his advice. Jack wracked his brain and winced. He was giving himself a headache. The part of Jack that was growing slightly delirious with lack of sleep raved on about how obvious it was that Gavin was actively avoiding him. Jack hadn’t seen him in  _ weeks  _ before being called to the throne room that afternoon.

 

Was Gavin eating? Was he sleeping? What did he do all day? The two guards Jack had talked to earlier had mentioned that Gavin never spoke to anyone anymore beyond a sparse few words. Parental worry mixed with the growing foreboding, and Jack found himself thinking to the king’s posture during their meeting. The words  _ tense _ ,  _ closed _ , and  _ fear _ suddenly entered Jack’s mind. He paused. Fear. Was that what Gavin’s jade facade was depicting?

 

Jack shook his head. He was going to rile himself up too much at some ungodly hour of the night if he kept this up. He turned his attention to Jeremy’s papers. He reached for his glasses set on the edge of the table. He grunted in dissatisfaction as a clumsy swipe of his hand ended with his glasses on the floor. Leaning over slowly, he pat the ground in search of the pair. When he finally grasped them, he pushed himself upright in his chair again. His hands were shaking as he settled the glasses on the bridge of his nose. He really needed to rest.

 

The blacksmith muttered to himself as he scanned over the contents of the documents. Several hours passed without incident, and he had gotten through most of Matt’s records. But when Jack noticed that he’d read the same lines roughly five times in a row, he set the papers down and grumbled a hefty sigh. He removed his glasses from his nose and ran his hand over his face. He stretched and leaned back, pausing for a moment. Leaning forward, he gently blew out the candles and quietly relished in the comforting scent of candle smoke.

 

After a few moments, Jack pushed himself up and turned back to his bed. Well, no matter how bad everything seemed, he still needed his sleep.

 

* * *

 

When morning came, Jack was roused by the gentle knocking on his door. He swung his legs over the edge of the bed with a low groan. Exhaustion clung to his eyes like heavy weights. It was too early for this. The knock came again, a little louder this time.

 

“Yes, I’ll be right there,” Jack grumbled loudly. “Give me a few moments.”

 

He quickly swapped out his rumpled tunic for a clean one. It was a deep green with golden embroidery along the edges. The embroidery mimicked the designs on the throne room door. Yggdrasil trees with entangled roots circled the bottom of the tunic, and golden vines encircled the sleeves. Jack pulled on a pair of brown trousers and belted the tunic around his waist. The brown leather belt was worn and old, a piece of clothing from his old smithy days, but he loved it nevertheless. He gingerly placed his glasses on the bridge of his nose and set out for the door.

 

When he pushed the door open, however, he wasn’t expecting to find himself face to face with Matt, one of the candidates for the position of captain of the guard. The taller man was younger than Jack and scruffy looking, with a dark, scraggly beard and long, dark brown hair loosely framing his face. The soldier looked uncomfortable.

 

That wasn’t the only sign that tipped off Jack. The soldier was standing with his shoulders locked in a rigid position, an unusual posture for Matt. He was tense. Very tense, and the look on his face did not spell good news either. Jack held back a sigh. He slowly pushed the door shut behind him before turning back to Matt with an expectant look on his face. Something deep in the old blacksmith’s bones shifted in dread. Matt had not come with good news to share.

 

“Good morning, my lord.” Matt greeted him stiffly, and Jack just waved away the formality. A spark of irritation forced its way into Jack’s heart at the title. He hated being addressed in any way except his name, even by those underneath him.

 

“Good morning, Matt.” Jack forced a small smile at his visitor. “What brings you here to my humble little corner of the castle? You aren’t here to beg for the position, are you? Because I’ll tell you, flattery will get you nowhere here.” Matt chuckled a bit at that, but his smile fell almost as quickly as it had come.

 

“I, uh,” Matt paused, shifting uncomfortably as he glanced back down the hallway to make sure no one was listening. “I just wanted to let you know that while I was on patrol this morning, I saw Gavi— I mean, the king— early this morning, at dawn, in the royal cemetery.”

 

Jack straightened his back at this information. Matt was whispering intently, as if the information he carried was top secret.

 

Well, Gavin was so secretive with everything he did nowadays that it probably was a heavy secret to tell.

 

The soldier heaved a breath, as if steeling himself to say what he was about to say. “He was talking to himself in the cemetery, Jack, and something tells me that this isn’t the first time he’s done this.”

 

A sudden panic flooded Jack’s being like a river of ice cold water down his spine.

 

That was too much like Ryan and his ghostly companion. Too much. Jack shivered at the thought.

 

“Did you catch what he was saying?” Suddenly, Jack found that he was whispering too, his voice suddenly hoarse and scratching in his throat. “What was he saying?”

 

Matt shook his head. His voice was genuinely apologetic. “I wasn’t close enough to hear, and, seeing how touchy the king is recently, I thought best to give him space. I stayed at the edge of the cemetery. But it sounded as if he were angry at something or someone.”

 

Jack sighed and carded his fingers through his hair. A moment of tense silence passed, and Matt swallowed loudly. Jack’s breath hitched in his throat.

 

“Thank you, Matt,” Jack said, sadness coloring his tone, “for telling me. I appreciate it. You may return to your duties.”

 

Matt nodded gravely and gave the older man a slight smile as way of reassurance. But Jack could tell that he couldn’t rightfully say that everything would turn out alright. Despite the somewhat relaxed look of the castle, everyone was tense. Worry seemed etched into the very building. It wasn’t just Jack who was worried about the state of things.

 

“Oh, and Matt?”

 

The soldier paused.

 

“I will be away today. If anyone asks for me, tell them that I will get back to them sometime tomorrow.” Jack, again, forced a small smile.

 

Matt nodded again and departed with a “you got it.”

 

Jack stood at his door for a long while after Matt had left, mulling over the information he’d received. It was worrisome. Gavin was talking to himself? Everything about the young man seemed to add up to the same things Ryan was doing before everything had fallen completely apart. Of course Gavin would be exuding the same signs, right? Gavin believed that he had no one to lean on, just as Ryan, undoubtedly, believed. But the real question was, was Gavin just still grieving? Or was this definitely the sign of madness brewing?

 

Jack heaved a shaky sigh and leaned against his door heavily. He was so tired. He was so tired of not knowing what to do. Of never knowing what to expect. Of never seeing the meaning behind all of this mess.

 

Just then, he found himself, once again, desperately wishing for Geoff’s presence. The late king wasn’t always particularly the brightest in common sense, and he definitely was an oddball and a goof at times, but there had always been a sage-like feeling about him, and wisdom beyond his years had always poured out of the man at the right times. Even as a Prince, Geoff was destined to be a wise man. Jack knew that, even from the moment that he had met the man.

 

Jack desperately longed for one of those wise words from Geoff just then, and he finally made his decision.

  
Perhaps it was time that he stepped away from the castle and took some time away from the noise. It was time to speak with an old friend. He could use the break.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just what is Jack up to?
> 
> Only two songs for you guys today, but good ones all the same. :D
> 
> This chapter's songs are  
> [Woodland Tales](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2kHmb7ZVh6s&nohtml5=False) &  
> [Ascension](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=G3k0YufjNfE)


	12. The greatest thing in this world is not so much where we stand as in what direction we are moving.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! We're not completely dead yet!  
> I feel like we haven't updated in like a year lolol  
> I sincerely apologize for that;;;;;;  
> We're still going! We're not giving up! It's just taking longer than we initially intended.
> 
> The chapter title is a quote by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe.

The ruins were quiet except the ragged breathing of the group. Ray took the opportunity of calm and plopped onto the ground beside the body of a giant spider. In his exhaustion, he couldn’t find it in himself to care about the massive corpse beside him. He ran his hand through his hair and shook his head.

 

“Well, that was a wake up call I’d rather not get again.” Kerry huffed in between gasps for breath. He sheathed his sword and kicked the body by his feet. A slight hiss escaped the creature’s corpse, and Kerry immediately skittered several feet away from it. His face contorted into one of disgust. Both Ray and Michael snorted in laughter. Kerry shot both of them a glare in their direction.

 

“Tell me about it,” Geoff breathed. He had collapsed in an exhausted heap not long after the last monster was slain, breathing a bit heavily, but managing. “I’m just glad there weren’t giant  _ snakes. _ ” The thought alone made him shudder and pulled a laugh out of nearly everyone else — except, of course, the red-haired stranger.

 

Her expression remained stoic. Her sword stuck upright from the ground where she had thrust it. Her arms were crossed over her chest, and she cast a scornful look upon the troupe now lazing about. “All of you are  _ fools. _ ”

 

The laughter ceased, and several pairs of eyes were suddenly staring at the female warrior. She, however, stared back, unflinching. “Do you know how  _ reckless  _ it is to travel blindly into the night? Those beasts  _ feed  _ on the darkness. Without light, you are nothing but a  _ meal. _ ”

 

Her words put a swift end to the brief moment of merriment. The silence, however, did not last long. Michael took a step forward, sheathing his sword after wiping it clean of blood. “Uh, we’re  _ here,  _ aren’t we?” He gestured vaguely to the rest of the group. “We kicked some serious monster ass!”

 

“You were  _ lucky, _ ” she hissed. “Had I not reached you, your party would be a man or two short.”

 

The boldness of her statement tore a scoff from Michael, his expression morphing with disbelief. “Are you serious? We were doing  _ fine  _ before you showed up!”

 

“If you’d call a  _ swarm  _ ‘fine,’ then, yes! You were doing  _ so well. _ ”

 

“What the fuck is your problem? Some big-shot warrior declaring she’s better than a couple’a  _ knights? _ You’ve got some serious fuckin’ issues if you think — “

 

Michael’s rant ended rather abruptly when the warrior — with no small amount of force — punched him square in the jaw. The impact sent him stumbling until he fell flat on his rear. Ryan, Ray, and Kerry leapt to their feet at once, ready to aid Michael, but it was Geoff that prevented any further violence by raising his hand.

 

“Hey, assholes,  _ sit down. _ You look like idiots.”

 

They stood down at the request of their king, though they still remained on edge. Michael vigorously shook his head to shake the sting away. A red mark had already formed on his face. He nursed it with a hiss of pain. He cursed under his breath, but instead of meeting the warrior’s gaze with  _ rage,  _ his eyes possessed something closer to  _ intrigue. _

 

Geoff, taking notice of Michael’s sudden change in attitude, simply rolled his eyes. “Look — “ He turned to acknowledge the warrior still standing strong. “ — he deserved that. Really. But, we  _ thank you.  _ For helping us.”

 

She turned her fierce gaze towards Geoff, who met her eyes with gentleness. The woman squared her shoulders. It was then that Geoff took a brief moment to look her over to see with whom they were dealing with.

 

Brilliant red hair cascaded down her back like a waterfall of fire. Her bangs fell to just above her eyes, and the long locks of hair were pushed behind her shoulders. Various feathers were tied in her hair as well, which Geoff recognized instantly as a common custom of the Northern folk. The warrior woman was clad in a dull burgundy tunic with yellow trim around the hem. Little yellow triangles of fabric protruded from the ends of her sleeves, which fell short of her wrists in length and flared a tad. Her sleeves vaguely reminded him of wings. She wore brown trousers and boots laced up to her knee. A brown belt held her sword and sheath around her waist. Overall, her clothing screamed  _ ‘traveller’  _ with how worn it was. She was a warrior through and through. Geoff gave an impressed huff.

 

Piercing green eyes watched Geoff closely, obviously scanning him as well, assessing him thoroughly. Whether or not as a threat, Geoff wasn’t sure, but he relaxed anyways. She had rescued them from a possibly tragic battle. Any worry that she might attack dissipated. If anything, she would just call them fools and leave it like that.

 

“Who the hell are you?” She narrowed her eyes as she swept her gaze across the clearing. “It’s only fair that I know whose asses I just saved from the Nether.”

 

“It is,” he said, sighing. He placed his palm on his chest. “I am Geoff.”

 

He pointed at all of his companions and gave their names. Ray waved halfheartedly when his name was given. Ryan awkwardly half-bowed. Kerry nodded his head, and Michael only continued to stare at her. Geoff suppressed the urge to walk over to him and sock him upside the head.

 

“Now,” Geoff smiled widely at her. He clasped his hands together. “May we have  _ your  _ name?”

 

She looked skeptical for a moment, but sheathed her sword and lowered her arms. “Lindsay.”

 

“Well, Lindsay, nice to meet you.” Geoff dipped his head in appreciation. “Thank you, seriously. I don’t know how to thank you for your help other than words.”

 

Lindsay huffed and crossed her arms, sticking out a hip before giving him a harsh nod and sauntering toward the now smoldering campfire. “You can start by getting your asses out of here—” She grabbed a stick and began poking at the embers, engrossed briefly by the various sparks of flame desperately reaching for life in the wood. “—and away from this place.”

 

“Woah, hold on there—” Geoff started forward, only to be stopped dead in his tracks by the fierce glare Lindsay shot over the remnants of the fire.

 

“We had just gotten here, ma’am,” Kerry stepped closer to the warrior woman, crossing his arms over his chest. “We weren’t planning on staying anyways.”

 

“Good.” Lindsay stood, throwing the stick into the dying embers. As she approached the guard captain, Kerry frowned. She loomed over him, even though the height difference wasn’t by much. Kerry seemed to shrink under the daunting presence she commanded. She watched him carefully, but backed away as she spoke. “Once daybreak hits, you lot are leaving this place.”

 

Michael was still watching her closely. His cheek was beginning to turn a dark purple where she’d punched him, but he paid it no attention. His dark brown eyes were completely focused on her as she tapped her fingers on the pommel of her sword.

 

Geoff sighed. “We were planning on it, Lindsay. Don’t worry.”

 

At that, she snorted. “Worry? Why would I worry about a pile of strangers who can’t even defend their camp correctly? I should not have even stopped to save your sorry asses.”

 

Geoff was the only one who responded with laughter. “True. Honestly, we’re inexperienced travellers.”

 

“Tell me, what are you doing beyond the Northern border? If any others had found you before I did, you’d all be lying dead in the  _ dirt _ .” Lindsay kicked some dirt onto the fire as she said the word. Her eyes were still on Geoff. “Do not think you can hide your accent from me. You speak like Ramsey people.”

 

This time, the laughter was awkward.

 

“Are we in the Northern Kingdom? I hadn’t noticed.” The king scratched the back of his head. A sudden surge of anxious energy swelled in his chest. He couldn’t help but suddenly notice the way she spoke. Her consonants were succinct. Her words clipped. Harsh. A Northerner’s accent. Suddenly, this warrior woman was much more of a threat. If their identities were truly discovered and Lindsay had half the mind to turn them in—

 

His kingdom would go to war.

 

“Fools, the lot of you,” Lindsay hissed under her breath. Her fierce gaze swept over the rather uncomfortable expressions of the group. “You’re currently standing in the Tywyll Forest.”

 

Kerry’s eyes lit up immediately with recognition. “That makes sense now! We’re in the thickest forest on this continent. Technically, this place is neutral territory, but—”

 

“—but the Northern Kingdom has claimed the forest as their own,” Ryan said, startling the group into looking in his direction. His eyes were trained on Geoff, but not on his face. The knight stared blankly at his king’s hands clutching the wooden staff he’d picked up in the fight. “And the Ramsey Kingdom hasn’t disputed the territory in over thirty years. It’s too dangerous to send soldiers this far north, especially with the abnormal numbers of monsters roaming the forest.”

 

“Right.” Lindsay regarded Ryan with a quizzical expression. “Which is why you shouldn’t be here in the first place.”

 

“We got, uh,” Geoff stuttered, scrambling for an excuse, “turned around.”

 

“Fair enough.” Lindsay said. “These woods are not for the inexperienced to traverse.”

 

“Could you point us in the direction of the nearest village, maybe?” Kerry seemed to pick up on Geoff’s distress. If Lindsay had noticed the sudden nervousness in the atmosphere, she gave no indication.

 

“I will not give directions to fools.” She paused for a tense moment. She watched Geoff closely, an idea flickering behind her eyes. For a moment, her expression softened, but only for a moment. “But I am traveling south for my own reasons. Stay out of my way.”

 

Geoff immediately nodded. “Understood.”

 

Lindsay approached the edge of the campsite where she had dropped her belongings in order to fight the mob, shouldered her bags, walked past all five men and into the forest. Once she was out of earshot, Kerry turned to Geoff.

 

“Did she just ignore the portal ruins?” Kerry asked. ”I had assumed everyone would be searching for them.” 

 

“That’s not her priority, asshole,” Michael growled, completely startling Kerry. He kicked dust over the remains of the fire, stamping it completely out. “Let’s just get going. She’s our only way out of this nightmarish forest right now.”

 

“Are you still mad she punched you?” Kerry snickered.

 

“No,” Michael snapped. “Shut up and get your ass moving.”

 

Kerry’s grin faltered slightly as Ray snorted quietly to the side. He shot a glare in the knight’s direction, but Ray wasn’t meeting his gaze anymore. Ray was staring out into the forest, as if he were searching for something—or some _ one _ . Kerry frowned.

 

“Well, the sun is full up now,” Geoff heaved a sigh. He gazed into the sky beyond the tree canopy. The leaves shivered in the morning breeze. “We might as well get moving. We need her to tell us the way.”

 

“She’s gone.” Ryan said.

 

Geoff froze and stared blankly at Ryan. He threw his hands into the air in exasperation. “Are you kidding me?”

 

“She left us behind.” Kerry said as he gave Geoff a sympathetic gaze. Geoff hissed in frustration.

 

“Well, all we can do is just go south. Maybe we’ll meet up with her again,” Michael said as he pulled his cloak over his shoulders. “Let’s just get moving. We’re bound to come across a village at some point. We need supplies for the rest of the journey.”

 

“Right.” Kerry nodded in complete agreement. “Let’s go.”

  
Geoff nodded reluctantly and sighed. “Yeah, let’s go.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well! Here begins our heroes' journey home!
> 
> This chapter's songs are specifically for the lovely Lindsay. What a warrior!  
> [Wolf Blood](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=06H_6oI4EK4) &  
> [Part of the Pack](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LGNlAIEbtGw)


End file.
